


Looking from a Window Above (It's Like a Story of Love)

by itsavolcano



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, F/M, Multiple Universes, continuation of drabble, married OTP, some discussion of infertility, strangers to friends to maybe more, vague fringe references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsavolcano/pseuds/itsavolcano
Summary: It isn't every day Leopold Fitz stumbles home and finds a beautiful woman in his bed. And to complicate matters, said beautiful woman claims to be from another universe. Helping her back to her world—wherever that may be—just might lead him to discoveries greater than anything he could find within the safe confines of his lab.





	1. Leopold Fitz's No Good, Very Bad.. OK It Could Be Worse... Day.

**Author's Note:**

> A re-working and continuation of [this drabble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8136850/chapters/18651112). Many thanks to the lovely dilkirani for the beta and the encouragement. This is probably the most difficult thing I've ever written and I'm posting it anyway.

For Leopold Fitz, March 8th was just like any other Tuesday, if not a little more frustrating than usual. Everything that could go wrong in one day went wrong. His myopic boss at SciOps refused his recent prototype proposal after weeks of back-and-forth. His packed sandwich was soggy, and the vending machine ate his coins and kept the packet of crisps. And then, to really lock in the no-good day, a bus cornered an intersection too tightly and soaked his trousers with stagnant rain water. A rather typical Tuesday during a typical week in the life of Leopold Fitz.

He was still shaking off the disgusting rain water and muttering to no one in particular, when he unlocked the door to his studio flat, his hands full with his satchel, travel mug, and broken umbrella.

“Honestly, that’s just bloody fantastic, that is—” Fitz looked up and stopped sharply, keys falling from his hand. In that moment, the axis of his universe shifted. His eyes locked on the creamy bare shoulder peeking out from jersey knit sheets. That bare shoulder and the woman it belonged to hadn’t been in his bed when he’d left that morning. Turning back, he confirmed the number on the steel door: 42. Yep, definitely his flat.—Because wouldn’t that have just been the cherry on top of the day’s crap sundae? To wander into someone else’s flat and and stare at an unsuspecting, naked woman like a right tosser. As it stood, it seemed she was having an even worse day than he was…

Struggling to wrap his head around the situation, he managed to find his voice. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

The woman rolled over, bleary-eyed and not bothering to hide what her silky locks failed to cover. 

“What kind of question is that?” She didn’t seem embarrassed, or even alarmed by his presence—if anything, she was mildly amused.  Fitz faltered but quickly looked away, his hands fluttering about in front of his face in effort to block his view. “Leopold, you’re blushing. Why?”

“Well, forgive me, but it’s not every evening I stumble home and find a gorgeous naked woman in my bed.” He continued to look everywhere but directly at her.

“That’s a strange thing to say.” She frowned but Fitz was too distracted to ask her to clarify. She gestured to the bedsheet. “Would you be more comfortable if I—”

“Yes!” He practically shouted the word, still feeling her eyes on him as she pulled the sheet up, clutching it in her fists. Finally chancing a glance at her, he pulled up short as a memory of a younger girl from his past came rushing back. But it couldn’t be her…  That girl had vanished years ago; surely there was a better explanation. And so as he stood in front of this woman, dozens of scenarios and hypotheses ran through his head until the most viable one locked into place, the accusation spilling from his lips before the mental algorithm was even complete. “I don’t have any information to give you and I would make a lousy hostage, so if you’re some sort of double agent—”

“If I’m a  _ what _ ?” She sat up taller, but continued to watch him with an intensity he wasn’t accustomed. Women didn’t usually look at him like that. Not unless they wanted answers to a test, or needed him to fix the fried circuit boards in their laptops. His last date had called him ‘an acquired taste’ and Fitz hadn’t exactly found that to be a compliment. The woman tipped her chin back. “Have you hit your head?” 

“What? No!” She was naked in his bed and wondering about  _ his  _ mental state? She cast an eye around the room, as if suddenly seeing it for the first time.

“What year is it?” A different kind of concern now marred her lovely face.

“2013.” She went pale at his answer and he found himself taking a few cautious steps toward the bed.

“Who’s the president?” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, a sure sign of nervousness.

“Of the United States?”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes and he felt a distant curl of familiar annoyance.

“Well, you didn’t specify.” 

“Honestly, Fitz.” This time, something warm zipped through him at her tone—it was half exasperated, and half affectionate. He’d never heard anything quite like it, but he’d do whatever it took to hear it again. 

“Talbot.” He paused before adding, “Is the president."

“Glenn Talbot?” Her grip on the bedsheet tightened and she dropped her feet over the edge, to the hardwood floor before casting a wary glance over at him. “Do you know who I am?”

“Jemma Simmons. But uh, we’ve never actually met. I mean, we  _ met  _ of course, even had a class or two at the Academy, but we weren’t exactly on speaking terms, and that was years ago and—”

He stopped, watching as she reached for a nearby shirt— _ his shirt _ . A navy blue button up with white polka dots. It was one of his favorites and he’d tossed it there the night before, intending to add it to his growing pile of laundry. Now, as she slipped it on and stood, he was glad for his oversight, glad there’d been something nearby for her to grab. But his mouth dropped a fraction at the sight of the shirt hitting at the tops of her thighs. He blushed and looked away.

There was a reason he’d never managed to speak to Jemma Simmons all those years ago despite being academic rivals, vying for top marks in their class. In addition to being brilliant, she was drop-dead gorgeous whereas he was shy. During all the time at school, he’d never managed to think of anything smart enough to say to her. But in this moment, as she stood next to his bed, wrapped up in his shirt, he wondered what his life would have looked like if he’d only tried.

He forced the idle thoughts from his head and met her eyes. They were round with unease, a hint of fear crinkling at the edges. He felt her practically willing herself to move forward. Then, summoning the courage, she took two steps and yanked back the curtain of the nearest window. A large passenger airship sailed effortlessly through the evening sky, cutting a path between two massive skyscrapers. She gasped as if the sight was completely foreign to her.

She stayed frozen in place for a few minutes before whispering in a voice so low he could barely hear her: “Not again.”

Fitz wondered what she could possibly mean.

* * *

While at the Academy, Fitz always believed Jemma Simmons was out of his league. Now, it turned out, not only was she out of his league, she wasn’t even a part of his universe. Well, at least that’s what this Jemma Simmons currently sitting cross-legged on his bed, a white knuckle grip on a mug of piping hot tea, claimed. After seeing the airships and towering skyscrapers, she had been overwhelmed and something about her made Fitz want to make her comfortable. The tea had been the first step. Next, he’d managed to find her a pair of clean track pants to go with the button-up shirt; and at her request, he’d even located a rubber band for her to pull her hair up into a messy knot.

“I don’t usually turn up in my former colleagues’ beds, naked, you know.” Jemma gave him a small smile over the top of her mug. Her eyes were still sad and bruised from unshed tears, but her softly teasing tone gave Fitz a thread of hope. He’d pulled a chair up a considerable distance from the bed, wanting to give her space. 

“A first time for everything, then?” He returned her smile and she took a cautious sip of her tea. 

“At least the tea tastes the same, that’s rather a relief,” she offered. “I must say, you’re taking the finding of a woman from another universe in your home quite well.” 

In truth, Fitz wasn’t certain she  _ was _ from another universe. It was more plausible she was the girl he knew in school, having suffered some sort of mind-altering trauma in the years since he’d seen her. He had no idea what led her here, to him, though. Cadet Jemma Simmons had disappeared shortly after graduating second in their class, and Fitz assumed she found a cushy, high-ranking job in the private sector, but he was realizing that might not have been the case.

“Well, I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable and scientific explanation,” he hedged, not wanting to frighten her off.

“I used to think that, too, when bizarre things would happen, but experience has since proven otherwise.” She carefully set the mug down on the nightstand and the glitter of a gold band on her left hand caught his eye. The matching diamond ring looked familiar but he couldn't place it. He looked up at her sharply only to find her watching him with that same quiet study as before. She absentmindedly ran her thumb over the rings, spinning them around her finger. 

“I’m sure your husband is looking for you,” Fitz offered, his voice soft. She blinked and stopped fidgeting with her ring set; then, drawing in a heavy sigh, she looked down at her hands. 

“Unfortunately, this is not the first time he’s been left wondering where I’ve disappeared to.” A tear escaped and ran a track down her cheek, but then he saw her pull herself together before gesturing to their surroundings. “Of course, this go ‘round is bit more posh and technologically advanced than the last. Do you have access to a lab? You aren’t, I don’t know, an accountant or something terribly unhelpful when it comes to building a portal to another universe, are you?”

“Uh, no. I’m an engineer. Not quite as exciting as balancing financial books, but alas, I get by. And I do, in fact, have access to a lab, but — ” Pensive, he paused with his hands pressed flat against his trousers; she seemed to read the cause of his apprehension immediately. 

“I promise this isn’t an exhaustingly elaborate plan meant to infiltrate… where do you work?”

He rubbed a hand at the back of his neck and up through his messy curls before answering her. “Uhh, SciOps.”

“Oh! You have one of those here, too? That’s excellent news.” Jemma shoved the sleeves of his shirt up above her elbows as she stood. It was the most excitement he’d seen from her. “Shall we head there now, then?”

Fitz held up a hand, forestalling her rush of excitement.

“We should probably wait until morning. Showing up this late in the evening might raise some security questions.” He wasn’t sure how he could explain her presence even if they waited until the next day. She looked at him as if she could read his thoughts. Part of him believed she could.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Instead of collapsing onto the nearest flat surface, she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin. “The sooner you realize there’s more to the universe — more than  _ one  _ universe, the sooner we’ll go our separate ways. I can go back to my world and you can continue doing whatever it is you do in yours… no doubt mainlining video games and crisps.” 

“OK, listen—” Now it was Fitz’s turn to jump to his feet, suddenly taken over by an indignant rage. “The concept of multiple universes isn’t beyond my comprehension, right? What  _ is  _ beyond my comprehension is how exactly, you, Jemma Simmons, a woman who vanished years ago, suddenly reappeared, and  _ in my flat _ . Add on top of that your claims of being from another universe, and explain to me why I shouldn’t call the authorities? I mean, honestly, I can’t fathom why I haven’t even bothered to call them yet. Perhaps  _ you’re  _ not the only one who’s gone mad, after all.”

“What?” She gasped when he finally paused, his face frozen in a scowl. “I—the Jemma Simmons of this world— _ vanished _ ?”

“Vanished might be a strong word. I just always assumed she found a nice stable job in a pristine lab somewhere and just went about her life. She was always a bit of an odd bird, liked her rules and regulations.” Hang on. Fitz stopped himself, clutching his head in his hands.  _ She?  _ Did he suddenly find her story plausible? What kind of scientist was he if he just— He paused when he heard her soft voice.

“Why weren’t you friends?” Her eyes were wide and curious. 

“Never had much to say to each other, I guess.” Fitz shrugged. “I was always a bit intimidated and she was no doubt upset I knocked her off her first place standing by the time graduation rolled around.”

“ _ You  _ graduated first in your class?” Jemma practically gasped.

“Hey! What’s so absurd about that?” 

“Oh, nothing. I’m sure you’re just as bright as my—As the Fitz from my world, but let’s just keep that fact between the two of us shall we? He’d never let me forget it.” 

“You know him? That is, you still speak with him?” Fitz watched her, eyes wide in wonder. She spoke with such conviction about this other universe, he was now finding it difficult to disagree. 

“Uh, yes. We speak often.” A jolt rocketed through him when he saw her glance down at her wedding rings. It wasn’t a conscious gesture, he was certain. In fact, the moment she realized he’d caught her, she forced herself to look away. 

“I’m your husband.” Fitz started, surprised. “That is, he’s your—.  _ Me _ . The Fitz over there—you’re  _ married _ .”

“We’re a bit more than just married. We’ve been best friends since we were at the Academy. Where  _ I  _ graduated first in our class, thank you very much. We do everything together. It’s… I never wanted to be without him, and this is yet another time his bloody cosmos has ripped us apart in a truly dramatic fashion, if I do say.” She’d begun shouting and Fitz winced, not entirely certain what she could possibly be talking about, and then he remembered her words upon seeing the airships. He was finding it more and more difficult to refute her claims. It wasn’t scientifically sound, of course, but he wasn’t certain how much more his logical brain could process. 

“You’ve traveled to a different universe before, then?” 

“A completely different planet, not of this galaxy. And not inhabitable for earth life.” He felt questions bubble up, as a scientist he wanted to know more, but she cut him off with a look. “I'd rather not discuss it beyond that.”

He could only nod. Still, he needed answers if he was going to help her get home, whether it was in this world, or some other.

“How exactly did you wind up here, then?” He asked sardonically. “A magic stone, a hidden door? Did the back panel of your wardrobe fall out…?”

“Fitz, truly, I know how this sounds but I’m not from this universe. I have no doubt you’re as brilliant of a scientist as my husband, surely you understand the principles surrounding spacetime as well as the theory of multiverses.”

“Yes, of course.” A hint of frustration began to take hold—mostly with himself. “But what I am having difficulty understanding is how you managed to break the spacetime continuum of  _ your _ universe and end up naked, in  _ my _ bed.”

“Well, firstly, I was naked in  _ my _ bed when whatever happened,  _ happened _ . And don’t look at me like that, I can practically see the cartoon puffs of steam coming out of your ears. My sex life is fantastic but it’s scientifically impossible that an orgasm would bend the spacetime continuum, no matter how good.”

“I honestly have no response for that.” He dragged his hand down his face, exasperated and trying to forget just who she was married to. “OK, so let’s say, hypothetically, you did indeed break the continuum, how would we even begin to send you back to your universe? Or even locate it? I don’t have tech for that.”

“I don’t suppose you have a TARDIS?” She snickered, mostly to herself.

“A what?” 

“A TARDIS, like the Doctor’s.”

“Doctor, who?” 

“Exactly!” Jemma lit up and Fitz frowned.

“I think we’re having two different conversations. What is a TARDIS and who is this doctor?”

“OK, now I definitely know I’m in a parallel universe.” Sighing, she picked up her tea. “Nevermind.”

“Gave up rather easily.” 

“It doesn’t truly matter, but I will say, I now understand how the Doctor feels whenever he lands in a new universe. Lucky for him he has that psychic paper.”

“My head is spinning.” Fitz exhaled, bewildered, but she only shrugged. After a few minutes of heavy silence, Jemma spoke. 

“What will it take for you to believe that I’m not from this timeline? To 100% believe it?” 

He paused, pensive. “We locate the Jemma Simmons of my universe.”

“And then you’ll help me get back to my husband?”

“I’ll try my best.” He folded his arms over his chest.

“Your best is always better than you give yourself credit for.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Past experience. I know you better than you think, regardless of the universe.” She smiled and Fitz felt a coil of jealous for this other him, her husband. What must it be like to have someone stand at his side? To believe in him wholeheartedly? He tossed a spare pillow on the sofa and pulled out a fleece blanket.

“We’ll go to SciOps in the morning. In the meantime, try to get some rest. Take the bed, I’ll take the sofa.” 

“I’d argue with you about taking your bed, but—”

“You know me better than I think?” He asked, moving down the hall to change into more comfortable clothes. 

“You’re learning,” she called after him. 

* * *

The next morning at SciOps, Fitz managed to maneuver Jemma past the guard, claiming she was a visiting professor there to give a lecture. Jemma gave the guard a confident smile and the older man was instantly charmed, setting her up with a visitor's pass. Surely, Fitz thought, the security at a secret laboratory should be more stringent, but for the moment, it worked to their benefit.

“That was almost as easy as psychic paper, after all,” Jemma whispered as they cleared the electric doors but Fitz only shook his head, eying her outfit of a red and green plaid, navy cardigan, and a pair of his trousers that were two sizes too small. 

“Should I be offended that my clothes fit you?” Fitz half-heartedly scowled but Jemma only picked up speed, moving down the hallway as if she’d been there before. Turning abruptly, she stopped outside of his lab. They were early enough that no one else had rolled in yet. He leaned over and swiped his keycard. 

“This is fascinating,” she murmured, pushing her way through the swinging doors. “Everything looks  _ mostly _ the same. The lighting is a little more red, but yes, mostly the same.” And then without another word, she turned and walked directly to his bench.

“What makes you think that’s mine? Past experience?” He struggled to keep his jaw from dropping as she keyed in his password:  _ chimPANzee87 _ . “Hey! What the hell?”

Instantly, she was typing away on his keyboard and Fitz could only watch, dumbfounded.

“As it turns out, much of the SciOps here matches my SciOps.” She shrugged one shoulder.

“You didn’t tell me you worked there.” 

“Did, for a spell. And then we… were assigned to other work. Discovered some fascinating things, went on amazing adventures. Some not so amazing. Some down right terrible. But all-in-all, it was for the greater good.”

Fitz hovered next to her elbow, slightly stunned, the pieces shifting into place. “I thought you said you weren’t a spy.”

Her hands paused for a second over the keys. “I said no such thing. You know very well I’m a spy. You’re a spy, too.”

“I work in a laboratory! I do very important, very measured and methodical things.”

“I’m not here to infiltrate your lab and steal your work, Fitz.”

“But you aren’t denying it, you’re a field agent.” He watched her closely as she continued to electronically maneuver through various databases, and then something else snapped into place in his brain. “Hang on— _ I’m  _ a field agent? I go…  _ out there _ ?” He gestured vaguely in all directions.

Before she could answer, a commotion just outside the lab doors caught their attention. Through the narrow windows, they could see the security guard arguing with a tall brunette woman dressed in a maroon jacket. Her hair was pinned back, accenting her sharp cheekbones and equally sharp glare. Fitz had a sudden sinking feeling. He didn’t notice Jemma slip from the computer chair and around the bench, moving out of sight just as the brunette strode into the lap with more confidence than Fitz had in his little toe. It was mesmerizing. And terrifying.

“Dr. Leopold Fitz?” It didn’t quite sound like a question. “What I’m about to tell you may come as a shock, but I’ve been assured you have the code level clearance, not to mention the brainpower we need.” The woman continued without much pause for protesting.

“There has been an incident at an underground SHIELD bunker known as The Playground. While running diagnostics on a newly uncovered device, one of our agents was met with a contaminant from said device. The lab was immediately placed under lockdown and she underwent proper protocol for exposure; however, upon contact with the shower system in the containment facility, Agent Jemma Simmons vanished. Security footage shows only a flash of blue light. We’re hoping that you can help, but…” She paused, held his gaze, “Well, Dr. Fitz, what do you know about parallel universes?”

Fitz slumped into the chair at his workstation. It was _definitely_ a typical day in a typical week in the life of Leopold Fitz. But, he wondered dimly as the blood rushed through his head,  _ which _ Leopold Fitz?

* * *

Standing under the hot spray of the shower, Agent Leo Fitz reflected on his day. He felt he was standing at an important life precipice—as if a monumental change was on the next horizon. He and his wife had been trying to conceive for a few months, and while they were still trying to keep a bit of a sexy spark in their relationship, he couldn’t help but feel like a lab specimen when Jemma started spouting off about ovulation times and estrogen levels. He knew she found comfort and control in what she could scientifically explain, and the various journal articles and charts gave her solace, but tonight was going to be different—tonight was going to be  _ the night _ . They were trying to make a baby, not build a flatpack bookcase. Sometimes his scientifically minded wife needed to be, well, distracted, and he knew just how to distract her.

He was a man madly in love with this wife, and while having a child would be a welcomed delight, their lives were perfect just the same.  _ She  _ was perfect. Together, they had created some world-changing things, and a baby would be just the icing on the cake, truly. If a child resulted from their union, he would be over-the-moon, but he didn’t want her so consumed by it that she lost sight of what they already had. But he knew convincing his wife otherwise would be a challenge. Luckily, he never shied away from a challenge. 

Fitz reached up to turn off the shower but a strange flash of blue light caught his eye as it reflected off the glass stall. Glancing over his shoulder, he found his wife standing behind him, fully clothed and with her back pressed against the slick tiles. She looked different, younger. Her hair was a different shade of brown that couldn’t be attributed to the sporadic spray of water. But more alarming than anything, she was staring at him like she had no idea who he was, the unmistakable glare of panic in her eye. Instantly, a cold prickle of dread raced down his spine, but before he could speak or even move, Jemma opened her mouth and screamed with a level of fear he hadn’t heard from her in years. 

Fitz jerked and stumbled backwards, falling out of the shower stall and landing on his bare arse in a soapy puddle as the woman who looked like his wife continued to scream. 


	2. Jemma Simmons, Down the Rabbit Hole

Jemma Simmons had no idea how she ended up in the base’s shower, but the wet, naked man sprawled on the concrete floor looked vaguely familiar. Or at least his face did. As for the other parts of him, well, she couldn't say. She'd never had reason to see Leopold Fitz in the altogether, but judging by her memory, he had become more symmetrical in the years since they graduated.  

“How did you get in here?” Simmons shrieked at him, her hands clasped around her neck, her thumb pressed against her racing pulse point. He scrambled to his feet and wrapped a large, fluffy towel around his waist, catching himself as he began to slip on a puddle.

“How did  _ I  _ get in here? How did  _ you _ ? Jesus, Jemma, you just appeared out of nowhere.” He reached around the shower door to turn off the spray. She'd been too dumbfounded to notice the water was still on, her ears ringing at the sound of his voice saying her name. Her colleagues seldom referred to her by her first name, choosing to exclusively use her surname. The way he said it, though, so self-assured, made her feel strange. 

“You know who I am? That is, you remember me?” Simmons brushed her soaking wet hair back from her face, lifting it away from where it stuck to her skin. The man stopped and stalled, looking at her with round eyes full of worry.

“That’s not funny,” he said, attempting to laugh, but she watched the sound die on his lips. “But you aren’t joking.”

She could only shake her head, tensing slightly as he reached up to take her by the arms and lead her out of the stall and over to the nearest bench.

“Of course you would know who I am; after all, we did go to the Academy together—” She glanced up at him, catching a flicker of worry cross his features.

“Jem—”

“Simmons. I prefer Simmons.” She didn’t mind the use of her name, truly, but until she understood what was going on and why he was on her base, speaking to her with such familiarity, it was best to maintain some sort of distance.

He put his hands on his hips and looked to the ground before meeting her eyes again. The pain she saw there was enough to knock her back.

“Simmons, what year is it?” Well, that was an unexpected turn of questioning.

“2013, of course.” No sooner had the words left her mouth, he turned from her and walked the length of the room until he was bracing himself on the far wall. The muscles in his back flexed and quivered.

Then, turning around, he leaned against what was no doubt freezing cold tile.

“And who is the president?” 

“Of the United States?”

“No, of Paraguay.” He pushed off the wall and tossed his arms about in frustration. “ _ Honestly _ , at a time like this, you still manage to argue semantics.”

“I don’t know about Paraguay, but the president of the United States is Glenn Talbot.” Something about his manner made her want to roll her eyes.

“President _ Glenn Talbot _ ?” He stopped pacing and stared at her. “What was the last thing you remember?”

“I was in the lab reviewing the recent 084—” she narrowed her gaze. “I don't even know your clearance level, I'm not sure I should be telling you any of this. I’m not even sure what you’re doing on this base—the last I heard you were at SciOps, but that was years ago—”

“SciOps?” She watched as he rubbed at the muscles in his left hand, closing his fingers around in a fist before stretching them out wide. “But you know who I am?”

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes. “Leopold Fitz. The boy who beat me out of my top spot at the Academy. Of course, I  _ let  _ you beat me, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“Hold on, I graduated top in our—your class?  _ You let me _ ?” Fitz pressed a palm to his forehead.

“I had my reasons.” She gave him a small shrug. He didn’t need to know about the undercover mission she’d been recruited for before she’d even graduated, or how her superiors had made it very clear she needed to throw her last few exams. It had pained her, of course, but it was for the greater good. Or at least that’s what she told herself when she looked at her imperfect scores.

Fitz opened his mouth, but before he could speak there was a loud banging on the door, calling his name.

“There's been a code 34 at your apartment, Fitz.” A woman’s voice shouted through the thick metal and Jemma watched the last of the color drain from his face. In two long strides, he was yanking the door open. Simmons gasped at the young brunette woman who tumbled in.

“Quake!” She bolted up from the bench, a mixture of fury and shock rushing through her at the sight of the vigilante Inhuman who had caused so much destruction in recent months.  

She stopped when the Inhuman made no move to escape, instead looking at her with wide, confused eyes. “Jemma? What the hell are you talking about? Jesus, I was so worried when the call came in saying there was a huge disturbance in your apartment and you were nowhere to be found. But somehow you managed to make it over here for a quickie with the hub—”

“That's not Jemma,” Fitz interrupted before Simmons could question just what exactly was happening. “Well, it is but not  _ my _ —er,  _ our _ Jem—Simmons. It’s just. I need to get home.”

And then with that, he bolted from the room, towel still wrapped around his waist as he grabbed a nearby comms device. Simmons followed, confusion mounting exponentially. Quake maintained a cautious distance but Simmons had the distinct feeling the Inhuman wasn’t letting her out of her sight. Strange. She was beginning to feel like Alice tripping down the rabbit hole. Maybe  _ these _ people weren’t the anomalies...

In the locker room, Simmons surveyed her surroundings as Fitz haphazardly pulled on various items of clothing while stuffing his feet into a nearby pair of boots. Something taped on the inside of his locker caught her eye and she took a step closer. Unable to swallow down the startled gasp, she took in the photo of Fitz, his arms wrapped around a woman who looked  _ just like her _ , but definitely wasn’t her. This woman was smiling wide—Simmons couldn’t remember a time when she had ever looked that carefree. This woman’s head was tucked neatly under Fitz’s chin and he was smiling just as widely. Dimly, Simmons wondered how they met. Was it in school or on the base? Were they, too, bitter rivals who barely spoke until one day it couldn’t be avoided?

An icy feeling in Simmons’s chest cracked and thawed. She’d never been held like that, like she was the most precious thing. This woman meant everything to this man, and vice versa. It was all evident there in that one photo.

The building sense of dread and confusion she’d had since she ended up in the shower stall intensified. This Leopold Fitz hadn’t stumbled onto her secret underground bunker. He hadn’t ended up in her world. No, she’d somehow ended up in his. And she had no idea what exactly that meant.

The 084 her team had brought onto the base had  _ seemed  _ well contained, but the strange toxin it released must have caused some sort of reaction when she hit the containment showers… But could it have  _ transported her through space and time _ ? That was absurd. That kind of science was only theoretical at best—it wasn’t something put into practice!

Behind her, Fitz had moved to the supply closets and was shoving items into a duffle. He hadn’t looked up in minutes. She didn’t know him well, but it didn’t take a genius to read the tautness of his shoulders, the rigid line of his spine. He was barely holding himself together. His lack of surprise at her presence—a woman who seemingly traveled through time and just happened to look like his wife—gave Simmons the idea that perhaps this wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever encountered. Cautiously, Simmons took a step closer.

“You know what’s happened, don’t you?” Her voice was low and careful.

“I know I need to get to my flat.” He zipped the bag in one hurried motion. “I need—I need to get to my wife.”

“She isn’t there.” Simmons wasn’t sure what made her say it, why she was so certain. “You know it as well as I do.”

He paused, almost as if he hadn’t heard her. But then, before she could say anything else, he slammed his hand against the nearby lockers, a string of curses filling the air.

“You don’t know that, you can’t be sure.” He continued to bat at the wall, at the supplies cart—at anything not nailed down and at some things that were. Simmons flinched, surprised by the outburst. Quake immediately rushed to him, her hands at his wrists as she backed him against the wall.

“I—Daisy,” he looked up, tears swimming in his blue eyes. “Daisy, I can’t. Not again. I can’t lose her like this again.”

“Hey, hey, Fitz. You found her last time, remember? You did that. And who knows, maybe she’s at that cafe nearby that she loves with those stupid tea lattes. And she’ll laugh that we were so worried.”

“She won’t be. She won’t be.” He shook his head so vehemently, desperately.

“How can you be so sure?” Quake—no,  _ Daisy _ —offered.

“Retrocausality,” Fitz spat, finally looking back up at Simmons. His eyes were like flints of stone. Daisy looked back over her shoulder, a question forming on her lips. Simmons tilted her chin.

“Because _I’m_ here, your Simmons cannot be. It would create an anomaly.”

“What are you saying?” Daisy only frowned.

“She’s different. She’s not from our universe.” Fitz pushed himself back up to his feet.

“So this is like... time travel? Wibbley-wobbley, timey-wimey?” Daisy asked but Fitz only glared as he grabbed the duffle and headed for the door. “Right, of course. Typical Tuesday, I’d say. Well, we’re going to the apartment.”

Daisy moved to follow Fitz out of the locker room before stopping to turn back to Simmons.

“And you’re coming with us.”

Leopold Fitz was desperate to find his wife—who happened to be her doppelganger. And now Quake was ordering her around, wanting to keep an eye on her. Yes, Simmons thought as she struggled to keep up, she was Alice and she’d definitely fallen headfirst into Wonderland.

* * *

Typically, a code 34 meant a massive disturbance of catastrophic levels, but from the outside, the studio flat Fitz shared with his wife looked pretty well intact. Simmons tapped an index finger on the gold numbers nailed to the door, tipping the 4 back up when it slipped.  _ 42. _

Fitz and Daisy had already moved further into the flat, searching for signs of the other Simmons— _ of Jemma _ . She was slow to follow, taking the curious sights of a world completely foreign. The sky here was devoid of airships and the buildings rather diminutive compared to some of the high-rises in her universe. But she was also feeling quite overwhelmed. She was an interloper in someone else’s life.

While Fitz had been understandably less than forthcoming during the ride to the building, his mind elsewhere as he practically vibrated with anxiety, Daisy had answered her questions as deftly as she could. Like her, the Jemma Simmons of this world was a scientist and a SHIELD agent. She had two PhDs, had gone to the Academy. She had even gone undercover at Hydra, but unlike her, this Jemma Simmons hadn’t gone immediately after graduation. She hadn’t spent three years deep undercover. Already seen by her SHIELD colleagues as shrewd and frigid, the experience had left Simmons with a tougher exterior and few friends.

Glancing around the studio, Simmons quietly noted the large exposed brick wall and the touches of violet and grey with accents of rose gold throughout the decor. It was a home that was lived in and loved. It was cozy. Two framed photos sat on the small table next to an overstuffed gray sofa. In the photo that was clearly a selfie, the couple looked so young and fresh faced, smiling wide with some sort of temple behind them. The next photo was from what looked like their wedding. She was dressed in an off-white lace dress and he was in a navy blue suit, a lavender boutonniere tucked in his lapel, matching the blossoms pinned in her hair. Once again, the look of love shared between them nearly knocked Simmons back a step. Before she could get too swept up in the implications of being faced with more visual proof of the possible path her life could have taken, a clamor around the corner jolted her back to the present. She made her way to where Fitz and Daisy were, standing next to a rumpled king-sized bed.

Two glasses of now tepid, flat champagne sat on the night stand and the scent of lavender and moss filled the air from a candle that had long burned out. A silky, cornflower blue robe had been discarded at the foot of the bed, but otherwise, everything seemed relatively in place. Simmons had been to her fair share of code 34s, and unless it meant something else in this universe,  _ this _ didn’t scream “catastrophic event.”

“OK, but have we  _ completely _ ruled out the cafe-around-the-corner-with-the-tea-lattes theory? Or, you know, any other cafe—preferably on this plane of existence?” Despite her flippant tone, Simmons could see lines of worry around Daisy’s eyes. Fitz ignored her, and instead he continued to scan the room, his shoulders so tense they were practically at his ears.

Then with an abrupt pivot on his heel he turned on Simmons.

“You,” he glared, stabbing his finger at the air, practically vibrating with unchecked anger. Simmons felt her blood run cold. “You caused this. Now, you’re going to tell me how to fix it.”

“Whoa, Fitz, easy.” Daisy moved, putting herself in front of Simmons. “What makes you think  _ she  _ caused it and not Jemma?”

“Because  _ she’s  _ the anomaly,” Fitz seethed, head tilted at Simmons, his hands on his hips. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Jemma has barely been in the field as of late, hasn’t been in the lab much… She’s been distracted by other stuff. Plus, she’s been trying to keep her exposure to radioactive materials and alien substances to a minimum—”

Daisy frowned, sorting through what Fitz was saying; but Simmons could only watch, silent.

“Fitz, are you saying… Is Jemma pregnant?”

With eyes cast down, he nervously bounced his foot before kicking at the nearest leg of the bed. “Not yet.”

The room grew heavy with his grief, Daisy watching him carefully as he took a few paces around the room. After a long moment, no longer able to take the silence, Simmons spoke up.

“An 084. It was an 084.” Fitz and Daisy stopped and looked over at her. “My team discovered it in a castle in Gloucestershire. A stone.”

“Unbelievable,” Fitz muttered as he scrubbed his hands down his face. “A huge black rock, right? Changes its state from solid to liquid?”

“No, nothing like that. It was a milky quartz, fit in my hand.” Simmons held her palm up before curling her fingers in, imagining the cool stone. Of course, though, she hadn’t held it in her bare hand. “I was following protocol, measuring its various frequencies, when it just. . . vaporized and went airborne. The device it was in shattered—they’re not supposed to shatter. I tried to avoid it, but I must have inhaled some of it. I immediately put the lab under quarantine and ran for the containment showers. The second the water touched my skin, there was a flash of blue, and then you were there… naked.”

“Wait, what?” Daisy’s jaw dropped as she spun around at Fitz. “You were naked?”

“Of course I was naked, I was in the  _ bloody shower _ , wasn’t I?”

Daisy rolled her eyes before turning back to Simmons. “That’s the most you remember?”

Without waiting for her answer, Fitz retrieved his tablet from the side pocket of his duffel before extracting a small case from under the bed. The lock on the case released with a satisfying click. Inside were seven perfectly formed devices. As he keyed in a few commands on the tablet, the devices swirled to life, rising from the case and taking flight, scanning the room for various signs of disruption in the atmosphere.

“You keep the DWARFs under your bed?” Daisy cast a sideways look at him.

“Brought ‘em home to tinker, stowed them there for safekeeping.”

“DWARFs?” Simmons mouthed, eyes wide and round as she watched the devices log evidence in the room. She’d seen fantastic tech before, had even had a hand in building some of it, but something about these drones was spectacular.

“A FitzSimmons classic,” Daisy shrugged, not noticing Simmons’s startled expression at the term.

“FitzSimmons?”

“Oh. That’s just… what they’ve always been called. I’ve heard the story a dozen times. Some professor of I don’t know what shoved them together for a project, and the name stuck. They’ve been inseparable ever since, not counting all the times they’ve  _ actually _ been separated...” Daisy trailed off abruptly and Simmons could practically see the apology form on her lips. Which was absurd; Daisy had nothing to apologize for. This was an alien world; it and the people here owed her nothing. 

They would figure out how to set everything right once more, and she would go back to her world, back to the lab where she worked as solo department director. She had dozens of people who looked to her for solutions. She’d always worked best alone, anyway. Less miscommunication, less room for error—and definitely fewer opinions to take into account. After all, she seldom questioned  _ her own  _ scientific motivations, now did she? Before she could analyze her actions any further, Simmons felt a vibration cut through the air, and then the floor and walls began to shake.

Across the room, a drone’s alarm sounded and Fitz spun on his heel, chasing towards it. As he moved, the electricity strobed, casting short waves of blue light through the air. Simmons was suddenly immobile, her ears ringing at the drone’s sharp frequency. Through the waves of blue, Simmons could see the lab from her world, could see Agent Morse as she observed two people—a man and a woman—bent over a workbench. Fitz and Daisy were also frozen in place, left staring at the scene.

Struggling to see more clearly, Simmons squinted against the flickering light and held her ears. The two people looked familiar… And although the man shuffled behind the bench and out of focus, something about the woman’s posture was particularly familiar… 

Simmons gasped as the woman turned and brushed the hair out of her eyes, a diamond ring glinting on her left hand. And when she caught a glimpse of the man, she staggered. It was Leopold Fitz—the one she knew at the Academy. But how could they have found each other—her doppelganger and her old colleague? What did it mean?

“Jemma!” Fitz screamed, suddenly moving towards his wife. Before Simmons could voice the unlikelihood that she could hear him, his wife looked over her shoulder as if she could sense something was amiss.

Fitz reached a hand into the blue light before jumping back as if burned. “Dammit all to hell!” He shoved a finger in his mouth, shouting around it. “It’s a fissure between our two universes. It’s not fully developed, because of bloody well course it isn’t.”

“But it’s good news, right? We know where Jemma is. Now we just need to figure out how to break through the…” Daisy trailed off, pausing, before a dark look passed over her face.

“No! I know what you’re thinking, Daisy. It won’t work, not this time. It’s too unstable, it’s too—” But before he could finish, Daisy raised a hand to the air, vibrating and dispersing molecules. 

“Fitz, I hate to break it to you, but who do you think caused the fissure to appear in the first place?” Daisy raised an already quaking hand as a chunk of milky quartz—the 084 Simmons had discovered in her universe—floated in the air. 

“Daisy!” The studio’s walls began to splinter and crack as a gust of wind swirled through the room. 

“I had to see if it’d work. I had to see if I could open a portal between worlds again,” she shouted over the maelstrom. “Aren’t you tired, Fitz? Aren’t you tired of having to just  _ struggle _ to survive? I’m tired, Fitz. I’m tired of watching everyone I care about suffer. What good are my powers if I can’t save the people I love!”

From the corner of her eye, Simmons saw the photos on the side table crash to the floor. Behind her, the champagne flutes shattered and Fitz roared, diving towards her.

Simmons staggered as the ground beneath her shook. The fissure opened wide, forcing her to close her eyes against the bright light. A voice that sounded like her own called out through the void just as a hand gripped her wrist and tugged her forward. 

And then, for the second time in one day, Simmons opened her eyes and screamed. 

* * *

“Easy now,” Leopold Fitz leaned over the screaming young woman—the Simmons he’d known in school.

She looked just like the Jemma Simmons he’d found in his bed, but a few years younger and with auburn, shoulder-length hair. Of course, she also looked much more terrified and world-weary than her counterpart. No doubt, bouncing between universes had a way of exhausting a person. 

Moving closer, Fitz reached down to help Simmons to her feet. A residual jolt of electricity shot through their hands and they both scrambled apart. He couldn’t keep from shuffling on his feet as she studied him with a careful eye. 

“So,” she started, cautiously, “is that it then? Has the universe been set right?” 

“Um, well, not quite,” he muttered. 

Fitz winced and tilted his head to the far corner of the room where the other Jemma Simmons stood with her arms wrapped around her husband, her head tucked against his shoulder. Cold dread rocketed through Fitz as his own doppelganger looked over his wife’s head and met his eyes. No, the universe was most definitely not set right. Far from it.  
  



	3. There's More Than One of Everything

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but while I’m thrilled to see you—what are you doing here, Fitz?” Jemma didn’t bother lifting her head away from his neck.

He didn’t seem to mind, and instead of moving away, looped his arm around her waist to hold her close. Their breathing synchronized and she burrowed closer, finding comfort in the scent of spicy sandalwood soap and sweat. His close-clipped beard was rough, a welcomed feeling against her cheek as she turned her face to press her lips at the edge of his jaw. _This_ was her husband. _Her_ Fitz.

The Fitz of this universe was a reminder of the man her husband had been when they first met in school. Seeing the familiarity in his mannerisms and habits had made her separation from her husband even more miserable. She peeked across the room to where the younger Fitz was helping the younger Simmons to her feet.

But, as much as the Fitz of this universe looked like her husband, the two men were definitely individual beings. While she had tried to remain optimistic and had tried to nudge this young man into action, she was more than relieved to have her husband by her side—even if having him at her side meant they were _both_ now trapped in a different universe.

Jemma turned her head away from their confused, wide-eyed doppelgangers once more, briefly shutting out the insanity of the moment. She needed to regroup, to find her grounding in the arms of her best friend before they were swept back up into some sort of temporal hell.

“I'm just as surprised as you, Jemma. I can’t even begin to explain how we ended up here.” He rubbed soothing circles along her hip, a gesture she knew was meant to calm himself as much as it was to reassure her. “The short of it is Daisy was just as frustrated about the whole thing as I was, except she went a bit mad and managed to open a fissure between the worlds. The magnetic pull was too strong and we were caught up in it. As for the strange quartz that started it all, I haven’t the foggiest as to what happened to it.”

“Quartz? The 084, she— _Simmons_ was testing?” It felt strange to refer to one’s self in the third person, even stranger to know it wasn’t _actually_ the third person. “It followed her to the other side?”

“It might be dust, now. Daisy used it to open the fissure. The last time she did something like that…” He trailed off, not needing to finish the thought. They both remembered catapulting back through the portal from Maveth just as the monolith exploded into ash.

They would need to find their own way home.

Since their schooldays, they were always better together than alone, and surely double the Fitz and Simmons meant double the odds of success—as long as their dual presence didn't cause a wormhole, or something particularly catastrophic. Jemma felt a tingle of worry at the back of her mind. During her brief time in this world, she had pored over many theoretical works on the structure of time and the implications brought on by a rogue presence. In short, she knew they needed to return home as quickly and cleanly as possible. Their dual presence would no doubt take an irrevocable toll on this universe if they stayed too long.

In fact, Jemma had a sinking suspicion, given the few medical journals she’d snagged and one rather illuminating forum she’d stumbled on, her presence in this world was already causing havoc. And if the infrequent bouts of blurred vision, sudden drops in blood sugar, and pounding headaches she’d experienced since arriving in this universe were any indication, that havoc was on her own well being. She’d had similar symptoms during the first hours on Maveth as her body adjusted to the atmosphere. The journals, however, seemed to offer a different hypothesis: she, being an abnormality in a universe where someone with her exact genetic makeup already existed, would cause her own demise. Eventually, she would be reduced to nothing but her most elemental parts.

It didn’t matter, of course; now that Fitz was here, they would find a solution, a way home. They always found solutions, no matter what.

Jemma pressed into him one final time before taking a step back. Crossing her arms over her chest, she studied the younger duo. They were still staring at them, wide-eyed and overwhelmed. It seemed the younger Fitz couldn’t take his eyes from her husband, while her own counterpart was shifting back and forth, studying them both equally.

“OK, first things first: I think, while it is no doubt unnecessary, proper introductions are polite.” Jemma moved forward, hand extended to Simmons. “I’m Dr. Jemma Simmons. You’ve met my husband…”

“We didn’t actually shake hands,” Fitz mumbled behind her and something about his tone made Jemma raise an eyebrow.

“No, his hands were quite full at the time. What with the shower, and, er, _everything—_ ” Simmons stammered and flushed, gesturing wildly. “I just mean, when I materialized in your world, your husband was in the shower, on the base, and so was I… But I was fully clothed! And I averted my eyes, of course—once I had my wits about me. Although I must say, he’s quite well-formed and symmetrical.”

Her husband groaned, a hand pressed to his forehead. The younger man, however, was now staring at Simmons, slackjawed.

“You _what_?” He gasped. “Me?—Him? _Naked_?”

“Well, not on purpose.” The young girl rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t exactly aware I was going to go careening through time and space, now was I? If I had, I would have aimed for a better landing spot. Preferably one that was drier and devoid of naked men.”

“You didn’t have to _divulge_ that anyone was naked. Or that he was ‘well-formed and symmetrical,’ of all things.” The curly-haired man was turning a familiar shade of pink.

“Unbelievable,” Fitz groused, his hand pressed to the small of her back as they continued to watch their counterparts argue.

“Quite familiar, actually,” Jemma murmured, amused by the easy rapport they had, despite their limited and tumultuous past interactions.

“We were never that bad,” Fitz whispered, his mouth near her ear.

“We were _just as_. At least until I clued in on a rather particular way to shut you up…” Jemma leaned against him, her fingers glancing down the slope of his bum before giving it a slight squeeze. After a moment of surprise, Fitz jumped away from her.

“Watch it!” he yelped. “I’m not a piece of meat. And this is a very serious situation.”

“Merely proving my point.” She gave him one last pat before turning back to speak at the bickering pair in her well-practiced department director voice. “I see you’re getting re-acquainted.”

They jumped apart, seemingly chastised. Fitz stepped around her, his hand outstretched to the younger man.

“Leopold Fitz. Just go by Fitz, though. And thanks for looking after Jemma, by the way.”

“Oh, um, wasn’t a problem. She took care of me more than anything, if I’m being honest.” The boy scratched behind an ear before returning the handshake. “Sorted me out after a couple of false starts. Took a bit of convincing, after all. I mean, anyone would question reality if they came home and found a naked woman in their bed…” He immediately pressed his mouth shut as Simmons leaned up and over on her toes.

“Was _she_ well-formed and… symmetrical?” she asked, haughtily. He glared as she dropped her feet back to the ground. Fitz, meanwhile, turned to look at Jemma. She gave him a coy smile and shrug. Before she could offer a retort, Simmons spoke up.

“You both can’t go by Fitz, you know. Not for the time being at least. For starters, it's making my head pound.” Jemma blinked. She’d just been thinking a similar thing.

“Ah, yeah, well, that’s fine because I go by Leopold. I happen to like my name.” The younger Fitz shot the girl a defiant glare and Jemma heard her husband scoff.

“He’s joking.”

“What makes you say that?” Jemma turned.

“Because out of the millions of possible universes, there isn’t _one_ that contains a Leopold Fitz who actually _likes_ his name.”

“What’s wrong with ‘Leo’?” Simmons asked, watching him thoughtfully with her head tilted. “I think it sounds dignified and strong.”

The younger man pulled up short and looked at her, his eyes wide in bewilderment as he mulled the suggestion.

“Uh. Um, yeah, I guess that would be OK.” He coughed, his foot bouncing in a tell-tale way. It was a tick Jemma’s husband also had—and it usually signaled he was flummoxed by something she’d just said. Or secretly pleased. Jemma smiled. “For the time being, it would work.”

She gave her husband a knowing look over her shoulder before striding over to the workbench. A sudden rush of blood crashed through her head and she briefly staggered forward, gripping the edge of the bench.

“How many times have you done something like that?” he whispered, following close.

“Hmm?” She tugged at the hem of her shirt. Had he seen her stumble?

“Bamboozled me with a pretty smile and a stroke of my ego?”

Jemma swallowed a sigh, thankful he hadn’t noticed. It wouldn’t do to worry him yet.

“Hardly ever. You're much too brilliant a man to fall for that rot.” She tapped away at the tablet Leo had supplied.

“You got that right—” Fitz stopped, his eyes narrowing as she sent the specs of the 084 Simmons had recovered over to a digital projector. The projector wasn’t as great as the holotable they’d designed, but it did the trick. “You're doing it right now, aren't you?”

“Of course not, darling.” The easy banter with Fitz was comforting and it grounded her. She focused on the data points bouncing across the projection screen. Ever since she woke up in this universe, dread and anxiety had taken root in her brain, had left her stomach churning. Food didn’t appeal to her, she’d barely slept. Her emotions felt heightened and she struggled to tamp them down, to keep a rational head.

She needed a clear head to solve this; and this universe was more hospitable than a barren alien planet. Surely, if she could survive on Maveth, she could survive in a mirrored universe. After all, now she had Fitz by her side. And hadn’t she longed for him in the early hours of her time on Maveth? Well, this universe had seen fit to give her _two._ Surely, together, they’d all sort this mess out.

“In the last four days, F—Right, sorry, _Leo_ , and I have gone over most of the data Simmons pulled from the 084 backwards and forwards. Of course, without the actual specimen, it’s been rather difficult. And now that it’s been obliterated in another time dimension, it will be even _more_ difficult to run tests on.”

“Hang on,” Fitz held up a hand, his brow creased with confusion. “Did you say, _four days_?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “Why?”

“You were only gone for _maybe_ four hours. Possibly even less.”

“OK, well, of course. Of course that would be the case.” Dread pooled in her stomach. What did this mean for the atmospheric sickness she was experiencing?

“On the positive side, we won’t miss the new episode of _Doctor Who_.”

“Yes, that is, of course, a priority. And the DVR would catch it anyway.” Jemma slumped against the lab bench. Her skin suddenly felt too hot, but her hands were freezing and she pressed them to her neck.

“Jemma mentioned this when she first arrived, but I still don’t understand who this doctor is,” Leo added, leaning over to Simmons.

“You don’t have _Doctor Who_ here?” Fitz spun around. “Honestly, only one of the greatest shows ever on telly. It would, hands down, solve all of our current problems in a flash.”

“Fitz! Now is not the time to discuss the fictional world of a fictional man who cannot save us. We are trapped here, and there is a time constraint. We _need_ to get home. Immediately. But, no, you’d rather chat about bloody _Doctor Who_ and I just… I just…” Jemma pulled up short, awareness of her surroundings, of her speaking volume, suddenly flooding back in. Simmons and Leo were watching her with shock, while Fitz only looked at her with concern.

“Can you guys,” he turned to the other pair, “give us a minute?” With a small nod, they fell a few steps back. As they stepped away, Jemma caught Simmons leaning over to Leo to ask what field this doctor exactly practiced in, and if she weren’t feeling so acutely panicked, Jemma would have found the exchange endearing. Instead, her annoyance continued to flare and she curled her fingers into fists at her sides.

His concerned gaze unwavering, Fitz stepped forward and took her by the elbows, leading her back to the nearest wall.

“What’s going on?”

“Are you joking?” Jemma scoffed. “We’re currently trapped in another universe. Our only clear way home was destroyed, and I haven’t any clue how to get us back. And I just want to get home. I want to be back in our apartment where the biggest physics problem is whether or not the telly will fall off the wall.”

“Hey,” he tipped her chin up until she met his eyes. “We’ll figure this together, yeah? We’ve solved worse problems. What’s one more trip to a distant universe if we’re in it together?”

He offered her a small smile, and while she tried to return it, she could tell the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

He was doing his best to console her, however, and with his thumb still gently resting under her chin, he leaned down to brush a gentle kiss on her lips. Nuzzling his nose against her cheek one last time, he moved back and Jemma did her best to appear calm.

“Now, what do you say we take a look at this research you’ve gathered and find our way home?”

Jemma nodded and motioned for Leo and Simmons to join them at the workbench. She queued up a hastily-made presentation deck and flipped through a few slides. Organizing her findings in such a manner had given her comfort, but now it all seemed like a waste of precious time. Time she could have spent splitting the universe apart in order to get back to her husband. But that line of thinking was useless, and she pushed it aside, focusing on the data.

“Fitz, you might find this familiar.” She tapped an icon on her tablet and the fourth slide came into focus. He moved closer to her, his thumb pressed against his lips as he studied the presentation. “According to the tests Simmons ran, the 084 seemed to be rather inert or perhaps dormant when it was first recovered. But, as the hours progressed, and tests continued, it exhibited a high frequency. I believe this shift in frequency signaled its change in shape and—”

“ _Boom_ _—_ It swapped out the Simmonses,” Leo piped up from his spot next to the screen, his thick accent catching on the extra syllables just before puffing up his cheeks to mimic a bomb detonating. After a glare from Simmons, he lowered his hands back to his sides, chagrined. Fitz turned to face Jemma, thumb still pressed to his mouth, a sure sign he was still processing the findings.

“So this is, what, a miniature version of the monolith? Albeit a much cheerier color?”

“I believe so, yes.” Jemma flicked to the next slide. “I believe it’s also a Kree artifact. But, of course, not the Kree from our universe.”

“So it’s the _same_ monolith. It does the same sorts of things, like target Jemma Simmons and toss her to who bloody knows where, but hey, at least this one’s pocket size.” Fitz spun on his heel and took two long strides across the room, slamming his hand on a metal table and knocking several folders of notes to the floor. He bent to pick them up. Biting her tongue to keep from pointing out how scientifically improbable it was she was the specific target in either case, Jemma turned her attention back to the screen.

Before she could continue with her presentation, however, Agent Morse breezed into the lab—it felt strange calling her Bobbi, even though she’d offered. At the sight of the familiar agent, Fitz pulled up short next to her, a manila folder opened in his hands.

Jemma heard him whisper their friend’s name, his eyes darting behind her as if seeking out Hunter. She pressed a hand to his forearm and shook her head. When Jemma first met this Agent Morse days earlier, one of her first questions had been if she and Hunter were together in this universe. Morse had only frowned and mentioned something about Hawkeye. Apparently, this Bobbi Morse had never encountered a mercenary Lance Hunter. It felt silly to care, but Jemma had felt a slight pang at the revelation.

“Oh, wow,” Morse looked around the room, obviously startled by the sight of two matching sets of scientists. “Well, this is definitely… _not great_. But it does explain the strange spike in activity that occurred about an hour ago. Looks like we’ll need to double our efforts and get you two back home as fast as possible. I assure you, that pun was unintentional.”

They quickly brought Bobbi up to speed regarding the 084, and its apparent relationship to the Kree artifact that had sent Jemma to Maveth and brought a powerful killer Inhuman back to their Earth. Leo and Simmons listened intently, filling in the gaps regarding the 084 and possible theories.

Now that the 084 was in a different universe and turned to dust, they needed to think even further outside of the box if they wanted to return home in a timely manner. And, Jemma thought as she hid her trembling fingers in the long sleeve of Leo’s borrowed cardigan, they _needed_ to return home as soon as possible.

“What about Randolph? He came in pretty handy last time. If this is Kree, then it’s worth a shot.” Fitz gave Jemma a soft nudge with his elbow, the manila folder he’d been digging through now tucked under his arm. “Does this universe have an Elliot Randolph?”

“Who?” Morse blinked, her eyes suddenly wide. Jemma knew that tell—the agent was hiding something. Luckily, Jemma Simmons had learned a few things about getting information out of people… from Mockingbird, herself.

“Professor of Norse mythology at the University of Seville, I believe. Did you know that Norse mythology derives from Asgardian culture? Which is quite convenient since he _is_ Asgardian.” Jemma turned to Fitz, suddenly struck by a random thought. “Do you think he needed to do any sort of outside research for his doctoral work? I assume it would be rather ‘Citation 65: me. Citations 78-81: see also me.’ Quite the academic conundrum, that.”

“If I remember correctly, he just bamboozled his way into that PhD, Jemma.” Fitz rolled his head in her direction, giving her a familiar look.

“Well, that’s hardly fair.” Then, as if remembering the other people in the room and the somewhat dire situation, she continued, “Elliot Randolph. If he’s anything like the Asgardian we’ve dealt with, he’ll be locked up somewhere. Probably for public indecency… in… I want to say Norway?” Jemma feigned confusion while Fitz nodded in affirmation.

“Oh, _that_ Elliot Randolph.” Morse crossed her arms over her chest. “Sure, SHIELD knows where he is. And it is a jail cell in Norway. Pretty freaky how close our two worlds mirror each other, huh? I mean, except for the airships and pink portals rocks.”

Jemma thought back to her mention of Lance Hunter and Morse’s confusion before pressing a smile. “Yes, pretty freaky.”

“Well, I guess we’ll need to go to Norway. But there is one rather big problem—well, two, now, actually.” Morse turned to Jemma and Fitz. “You two can’t go. In fact, you’re essentially barred from leaving the lab.”

“What?” Fitz started forward.

“You know it as well as I do, Dr. Fitz. You’re both a universal anomaly. We want to return you to your home as quickly as possible—and as in one piece as possible. To do that, we need to quarantine you both. I’m sorry, but it’s for your own health and safety.”

Fitz turned to Jemma, somewhat thunderstruck. “You’re fine with this? Being stuck in the lab?”

In truth, she was glad for Morse’s decree, but she couldn’t tell him exactly why.

“Oh, come now, Fitz, we’ve been locked up in a lab before. Far too many times to count, and under various circumstances. This would be no different. In this instance, we’re better off in the lab anyway. We can work on various other solutions while Agent Morse fetches Dr. Randolph. Four heads are better than one, you know.”

Fitz studied her so intently, she was certain he could see through her thinly veiled cheer.

“Actually, I won’t be going alone,” Morse spoke up. “If the Randolph you’ve dealt with is so similar to this guy, then I’m sure you know it takes more than a strong arm to pull him out of his cell. I’ll need to play up to his interests in science and mythology. I’m good at biological science, but when it comes to this existential crisis stuff—”

“ _Physics_ ,” Fitz interrupted.

“—You’re better.” Morse hooked a thumb over at Simmons and Leo. “Which is why you two are coming with me.”

“ _Me_? Us?” Leo sputtered. “In the… _Out there_?” He pointed wildly at a windowless wall.

“You’ll be fine,” Simmons shifted as if she wanted to step closer to him, but something held her back. Jemma knew that feeling. It must be an inherent trait, she mused, to always want to be beside Leo Fitz only to worry her presence was unwelcome. “It’s your first mission. It’ll be exciting.”

“I’m not field trained, Simmons! I didn’t pass my assessment!” His panic was crescendoing. And then, as if she couldn’t love her husband anymore, Fitz moved next to Leo, a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Me neither, mate.” The younger man looked up with his wide eyes, and the moment was surreal and warm, all at once. “Didn’t have a lick of proper training for life out of the lab. But I learned on the job. I learned a few things I’m hoping you avoid, too.”

As he spoke, Jemma was certain he wasn’t aware he curled his left hand into a fist.

“But I made do. And that’s how I know you can do it, too.”

“But… how? How did you manage?” Leo was watching Fitz, absorbing every word.

“Oh, that’s easy.” He tipped his head towards Jemma. “I had Jemma Simmons by my side. And, it just so happens, I think you do, too.”

Nearby, Simmons gave a nod of agreement, having watched the entire exchange.

“Yes, of course, Leo. I’ll be there too. We’ll be in this together.” She gave a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Jemma had the nagging suspicion there was something Simmons wasn’t saying. Hadn’t Leo mentioned Simmons spent time in the field fresh out of school? That she’d essentially vanished? Her own memories of undercover work flooded back and she hoped one day the young girl would find the strength to share her experience with someone… Perhaps even with Leo.

Across the room, Fitz was helping Leo pack up some items to take on the jet while Simmons gathered up copies of their notes. Minutes later, Morse was leading the younger duo out of the swinging double doors.

“Oh! Agent Morse!” Jemma called out after her. “Play up to Randolph’s interest in science and history, yes, of course. But more importantly—you’ll need to flatter his vanity, his pride.”

“Oh, Agent Simmons, I might be _good_ at science… but playing into a guy's vanity to get what I need? I’m _great_ at that.” She winked and then she was gone.

“I miss her,” Fitz sighed and Jemma agreed before shifting her body towards him. She was beginning to feel clammy again, her head starting to spin. Forcing herself to focus on Fitz, she hoped it would pass quickly.

“So, where shall we start while they’re fetching Randolph?” She swayed and caught herself against the bench.

“Well, for starters, how about we discuss these findings…” He held up the manila folder and suddenly Jemma realized what it contained. She’d thought it was more information on the 084; she’d printed out so much. “And why you failed to tell me that we have less than 72 hours to get home or risk dematerializing?”

Jemma tipped slightly, sweat forming at the back of her neck. The tang of bile rose up in her throat. She could hear his voice but couldn’t make out the words. Was he shouting her name? Was she falling forward? No, this couldn’t be happening.

Before she passed out, she had one final thought: They were going to get home. _And in one piece_ , just as Morse had said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter was more difficult to write than I initially thought. If you enjoyed it or loathed it (or anything in between), I'd love to know. On the upside, I have the next three chapters mapped out and so the rate of updates should increase from one chapter every five weeks to... something much faster than that. As always, a shout to the lovely dilkirani for being my cheerleader and beta!


	4. Stowaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our teams continue to fight to right their respective worlds, but encounter some unexpected complications.

**Somewhere in Norway**

Leopold Fitz had never been a big fan of his name. Named after his English great-grandfather, he always found it to be a bit of a Victorian mouthful. And only his mother was permitted to call him  _ Leo _ . Or at least that had been the case until today. He chanced a glance over at the young woman strapped into the jet and tried not to think too hard on why he’d agreed to answer to the nickname at her suggestion so readily.

Why was  _ he _ the one who had to go by something other than Fitz? Why not the other guy? Sure, he was older, stronger and handsomer, and he somehow managed to grow a beard — he ran a hand over his own smooth jaw at the thought — but those weren’t exactly  _ good _ reasons...

“It’s only temporary,” Simmons leaned over, shouting above the clamor of the engines. Agent Morse had climbed in the cockpit the moment they reached a cruising altitude, leaving the pair alone.

“What is?” He winced as the jet tilted and his stomach churned. Absently, he wondered if he could design a more aerodynamic machine if given half a chance. He'd like to try.

“As soon as our doppelgangers are back in their universe, you’ll be the only one, you know.” She shrugged. “I’ll happily call you Fitz.”

He hoped he wasn’t blushing but he knew he wasn’t that lucky. He looked down and tightened his already white-knuckled grip on the shoulder straps keeping him in his seat.

“It’s interesting, don’t you think?” She spoke after a moment.

“What is?” He tipped his head in her direction but she was focused on some spot on the far wall.

“How he calls her Jemma?”

“They’re married.” He pulled his lip between his teeth, slightly confused by the sudden topic.

“Yes, I suppose. That must be it.” She pressed her mouth into a tight line and Fitz was even more confused.

“Would you — do you want me to call you Jemma?”

“We aren’t married.” She cut a look in his direction before focusing on her hands clasped in her lap and suddenly Fitz realized he wasn’t the only one blushing. It was the first clue that she found the situation just as surreal as he did. “And I prefer Simmons.”

He didn’t know her all that well, but something in her tone left him wondering if she was trying to convince herself of that fact. It was a strange feeling, working so closely with someone who was your enemy for so long (but had she ever  _ really  _ been his enemy?), now with the understanding that in some other plane of existence,  _ that  _ Fitz and Simmons had found their way to each other, had been the best of friends all the while falling in love. Could he and  _ this  _ Simmons ever be friends, fall in love? Or was it merely the power of suggestion? The chicken and egg paradox…

They arrived in Norway with a sharp jolt as the landing gear hit the ground and he winced. All this thinking about his relationship with Simmons was pointless anyway. She hadn’t indicated she wanted to work with him beyond this current situation. No doubt, she had a much more glamorous life working in the field, while he could barely handle one bumpy ride in a jet.

He took a few fortifying breaths as he unbuckled his safety straps and planted his feet more firmly on the ground. His scalp tingled and his hands were clammy as he wiped them on his trousers. He was not built for fieldwork and it was embarrassing. Hopefully, Simmons didn’t notice his wobbly exit as he descended the stairs.

 

Once inside, it didn’t take much for Agent Morse to convince the guards to grant them access to Professor Randolph. No, the difficult part was convincing the man to leave with them.

“Look, I appreciate you thinking of me, truly,” Randolph spoke as he spooned a glob of raspberry yoghurt into his mouth, “but this place is a palace compared to what awaits out there.”

“Fresh air?” Agent Morse glared. She was intimidating, drawn up to her full height and her arms crossed over her chest. Fitz was surprised Randolph hadn’t buckled immediately. He would have — in fact he had; her intimidation tactics were the only explanation for his being out in Norway in the first place. Next to him Simmons shifted, her eyes locked on the exchange and Fitz remembered that wasn’t necessarily true. He’d also wanted to impress Simmons. How juvenile, he thought sourly.

“The ventilation system is quite modern. Top of the line.” He scraped the bottom of his yoghurt cup.

“You’re saying you’d rather stay in here than... help us?” Morse stepped closer and even Fitz could recognize the flirtatious lilt in her voice. He’d pored over Randolph’s file during the flight and knew he had a penchant for leggy brunettes… and blondes. And redheads.

Fitz blushed and shuffled on his feet, feeling guilty for even briefly thinking of Agent Morse as a leggy brunette. Randolph, however, dragged his beady gaze up and down Morse’s body, seeming to contemplate her loaded question before giving a resigned shake of his head.

“I like it here. They bring me my favorite foods, warm blankets. I can watch  _ The Bachelor _ and no one fights me for the remote.”

It seemed Randolph was adamant in not wanting to help them. Fitz glanced at Simmons, unsure what this meant for their doppelgangers—or for them. Like Agent Morse, she too had her arms crossed over her chest and was glaring hard at the prisoner. There was a sharp gleam in her eye as she sized him up.

“My goodness,” she spoke, her soft melodic voice tinged with steel, “I thought Asgardians were all about honor and duty. I never expected to see you, pardon the colloquialism,  _ shaking _ in your boots.”

Simmons leaned forward, as if watching her words land, and Fitz followed her gaze. It was practically imperceptible, but there was a slight twitch at Randolph’s left eye. Just as quickly, it stopped.

“Well, you thought wrong, Agent,” he shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “Didn’t you do your research? I fell from the sky and  _ liked it _ . I much prefer living among the mortals. As I said, no one on this planet fights me for the remote.”

“But you  _ are  _ afraid of something,” Fitz commented, so low it surprised even him. He hadn’t actually meant to say anything but the words just spilled out. Simmons and Morse turned to him and he swallowed, before continuing. Randolph sized him up. “You’re afraid of something… of someone?” He winced as his voice went up. Spies’ voices didn’t crack on questions.

“I fear no man.” Randolph puffed out his chest.

“So,” Simmons interjected, eyebrow arched, “a woman, then?”

The prisoner stalled and deflated.

“She’s no woman. She’s barely human.” He collapsed on the small bed with his hands on his knees. “But as long as I’m in here, she can’t get through those walls. No matter how hard she huffs and she puffs, she can’t blow this house down.”

“Who?” Morse asked, still watching him carefully.

“That Inhuman who’s been causing me trouble for  _ months _ ,” he spat before holding up his hands and waggling his fingers. “The one with the… you know…”

“Quake?” Simmons supplied and Randolph snapped his fingers before jumping back to his feet.

“That’s the one.” He paced loops in the small cell. “Been after me since the Battle of Manhattan. Blames Loki for her father’s death. Which, of course, is absolutely valid since he ran the guy through with his staff. But I have nothing to do with that psycho, you know?  _ Hashtag not all Asgardians. _ ”

The three SHIELD agents only stared at him. Fitz found the entire exchange to be rather surreal and his stomach fluttered with unease, or was it something else? That clammy feeling crawled up the back of his neck and he tried to push it away by focusing on the matter at hand.

Finally, Morse spoke up. “What does Quake want with you, specifically?”

“To toss me back to the wolves. She wants to trade me for Loki.” Randolph stopped pacing. “Which is absurd. I’m a big deal, sure, but I’m not at the ‘trade for the murderous demigod son of Odin’ level. Anyway, she wants to avenge her father’s death and wants to use me as a pawn to do it. Which is precisely why I am never leaving my luxurious suite not even to help you…” He paused, frowning, “why is it you’re here, again?”

“We need your help opening a portal to get two people back through to their universe.”

“Ah, of course, ripped holes in universes. Portals.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Classic.”

“This is very serious,” Fitz piped up, his ears suddenly ringing. A wave of nausea crashed down on him as he stepped forward. He really wasn’t used to being out of his lab and at this point it was embarrassing. “We have to send Agents Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons back home before the… the…” Why did they have to send them back? He couldn’t remember. His thoughts were growing fuzzy and the room began to spin.

Dimly, he heard a rumbling from down the corridor as the metal and stone of the prison shifted and cracked. The guards shouted in a language Fitz couldn’t understand. His stomach continued to churn, but this time he felt flushed and more discombobulated than he’d felt since stepping off the plane.

“Is this…” he looked at Simmons, her eyes just as wide as the building continued to shake. “Do they get big earthquakes in Norway?”

He could see realization crash down on her and she shouted one word at Agent Morse. “Quake.”

Randolph’s eyes were wide with panic, his mouth drawn tight as he retrieved a notebook from under his bed.

“You were saying something about needing my assistance?”

Without another word, Morse yanked Randolph out of the cell and into the fray as the walls continued to crumble and guards fired bullets at a force they couldn’t defeat.

“We should go, too. C’mon.” Simmons reached back to grab for him, but, struggling to stay upright, he teetered and fell against the door frame. Worry clouded her eyes as she stepped to him.

“You’re burning up.” Simmons ran her cool hands over his forehead and down his neck. “Why are you burning up?”

“I’m not exactly sure. Thought it was motion sickness from the flight. It could be some fast-acting flu.” He licked his suddenly dry lips. “But this doesn’t exactly seem like a symptom of the flu.”

He raised his left hand up for Simmons to examine and she gasped at the sight. His hand was trembling so severely it practically vibrated, as if it were breaking up at a molecular level. For a brief moment, Fitz swore his skin—no, his  _ entire _ hand—went translucent. He felt too sick to panic, but judging by Simmons’s expression, she was worrying enough for the both of them.

* * *

**Meanwhile, at the SciOps Lab**

“Make sure the bevel side of the needle is up,” Jemma instructed from a nearby desk chair as Fitz readied the collection tube. He hated needles, hated drawing blood, but she was still too dizzy to attempt it herself. 

While Jemma had quickly regained consciousness after fainting, Fitz was still bouncing with unchecked worry and if he were honest, with anger. —Anger at the situation, at the cosmos, even at Jemma for hiding her illness from him.

He knew she was watching him closely as he moved about the lab and approached her exposed arm with a collection tube. No doubt she was concerned he needed to be the one to draw her blood. But, Fitz rationalized, he was a scientist and her husband, he could draw a bit of blood for testing. He’d done worse for her. After a quick inhale through his nose he found a vein in her arm and inserted the needle, pulling back the stopper until the tube was full. Then, after a couple quick shakes, he handed it over to Jemma.

Gingerly, she slid from the chair and went about preparing the sample for the standard blood tests as  well as a few additional tests she’d promised him.

“You know,” she started, “I’m rather impressed with how well you’re handling all of this.”

Too keyed up to respond right away, he dug through his counterpart’s workstation with more aggression than strictly necessary, barely registering his surprise when he found his favorite black tea and a packet of chocolate biscuits stowed in the back of a drawer. This Leopold Fitz  _ definitely _ didn’t share a lab with Jemma Simmons—she would never allow such contraband.

He set about bringing water to boil in a nearby electric kettle, hoping the tea and biscuits would help Jemma’s unsettled stomach while giving him something to focus on.

“And I’m also surprised at your skill with the needle. I barely felt a pinch,” she continued and he realized his silence was grating on her but he couldn't find the words to speak.

Another flare of worry bolted up, cutting through his anger. He grabbed the folder filled with her notes on the strange phenomena, the disease that was rapidly killing his wife.—Could  it even be called a disease? If only, he thought glumly, they covered transcortical dematerializing illnesses brought on by jumping universes at the Academy.

He tossed the folder down next to her and she glanced up from the spectrometer, startled. 

“When were you going to tell me about this?” Now that he was finally speaking, his voice felt hoarse with restrained anger. She frowned, a worried look in her eye. 

“I didn’t want to cause unnecessary alarm.” She licked her lips.

“You passed out  _ cold  _ in my arms.” He stared at her, dumbfounded, as she continued to set up various test combinations. 

“Yes, that  _ was  _ unfortunate but it was also the first time I’d passed out in  _ this _ universe.” At least Jemma had the sense to wince at the absurdity of her comment. 

“Oh, OK. Sure. That’s fine, then,” he groused, tossing his hands up in the air. As his temper flared, she seemed to gain her footing. 

“It’s impossible to know just what we’re up against. All of the research I gathered in that folder is merely hypothetical—practically science-fiction, coupled with our personal research the  _ last  _ time such a thing happened.” She shot him a dark look before setting off the timer next to the test samples. Based on the calculations, they would have a better idea of her condition in ten minutes. “We’re in uncharted territory.”

She crossed her arms and stood out of reach, no doubt memories of her time on Maveth playing through her mind. He couldn’t help but remember his own desperation back then. What had he said all those years ago, while searching every mile of earth for his missing partner, his best friend? That he would give anything to be wherever she was? That together, they could solve any problem and get back home? Well, now was his chance.

They needed to work together if they were going to make it back to their universe within the allotted time window.—And they were losing precious minutes arguing about  _ what  _ exactly? He stepped closer but she kept her head down, hands now reaching up to clasp either side of her neck,  a nervous habit she’d had since adolescence. He smoothed his own hands up her arms until she relaxed her grip. 

“We’ll figure this out, Jemma. We’ll figure it out because we  _ have  _ to.” He paused, remembering words she’d told him years ago, sitting on his bedroom floor at the base while the world once again split at its seams. “I’m tired of us being ripped apart. It won’t happen again.” 

She gave him a watery smile and rested her forehead against his chest. Behind him, the automatic door made a soft whish as someone entered and the couple glanced up, expecting to see their counterparts returning with Agent Morse… and hopefully Randolph. 

Instead, they were stunned by the sight of Grant Ward, impeccably dressed in a black suit, a takeaway coffee cup in his hand. His posture was relaxed, lacking the arrogant swagger of the man they once knew. Fitz jumped back, putting his body between his wife and their old nemesis. Both were too shocked to speak. 

Noticing their unease, Ward paused and fell back a step, gesturing vaguely with his free hand. 

“Uh, Agents Simmons and Fitz… Agent Morse told me about your situation and I just wanted to check in, see if we can make your stay here any easier…” He continued to watch them intently. Taking another step forward, Ward extended his hand out, but Fitz shrunk away and grasped Jemma’s in case they would need to run.

Confused, Ward frowned and dropped his hand. “I’m Grant Ward, but something tells me you know that already.” 

Jemma stepped around Fitz and he struggled to pull her back, wanting to keep her safe. But she moved too quickly and it took him a moment to realize she’d changed up their placement on purpose—that she was now intentionally standing between Fitz and this universe’s Ward.

“Yes, well, forgive us, it’s been a bit of a trying endeavor. You share the face of an old enemy—two old enemies, actually. He was a friend, practically like a brother, and then he wasn’t…” She cut the other man a steady glare, as if challenging him to show betrayal. 

Ward gave her a cautious nod, seemingly unsure how to proceed. 

“Well, like I said, just wanted to check in. As the director, I can get you anything you need, and so—”

“The director?” Fitz frowned, voice low but steady. “Of?”

“SHIELD,” Ward spoke as if it were the most obvious answer and Fitz supposed it was, given the topsy-turvy nature of this bonkers universe. 

“What about Coulson?” Jemma shifted forward, caught up in this new revelation, and Fitz wanted to reach out to pull her back, to drag her from this room, this world. He wanted to be anywhere but in this ticking time bomb of an existence where Grant Ward was in charge of SHIELD.

“Phil Coulson?” Ward shoved a hand into his trouser pocket and shuffled on his feet. It was a decidedly uncharacteristic mannerism for the man they’d known. “He, uh, he died. During the Battle of Manhattan a few years back.” 

Fitz staggered. It was a unnerving, being faced with a different outcome from that fateful battle. He wondered what other battles they'd waged and lost. Was Iron Man in this universe? The Hulk? Had Steve Rogers ever been found? His mind whirled with the probability of it all.

“In the aftermath, SHIELD sought to develop a mobile unit in hopes of gathering any strange or alien artifacts and stopping any future invasions. Agent Morse was my pilot for the first couple of years. Tried to get my SO on board, but she flat out refused. Completely understandable, given the circumstances, but—” 

“She?” Fitz interrupted. 

“Uh, yeah. Melinda May. She and Coulson recruited me after my stint in the military, trained me up. After Coulson’s death she retired from SHIELD.”

Fitz and Jemma shared a look of surprise. 

“This universe is bonkers,” he whispered and she could only nod. 

“What was that?” Ward sized them up, clearly noting their silent communication. “You know Melinda May over… there?”

“Best if we just leave it with a simple yes.” Jemma grimaced. 

Before Ward could press further, Simmons thundered into the lab, her ponytail falling down, a look of panic marring her features. 

“We have a situation.” Frantic, she stormed over to the bench Jemma had used to sort out her blood samples and retrieved a sample kit. 

“Is it Randolph?” Jemma stepped next to Simmons, her concern evident. Behind her, Agent Morse hoisted a semi-conscious Leo through the door and Fitz rushed forward to assist. Randolph, less frantic than all of them combined, breezed in behind them. 

“Put him over here,” Simmons ordered and soon Leo was spread out on a nearby table as she prepared to draw a blood sample. He was pale and sweaty, the fingers of his right hand tucked oddly against his left in a gesture Fitz himself found familiar. Reaching up, he unclasped the younger man’s hands, and his stomach dropped at the sight. Leo’s left hand was vibrating at an alarming frequency. It was the same hand that still gave Fitz trouble, from his injuries after SHIELD’s fall and Ward’s betrayal. 

Confused as to what it could mean, he bolted for Jemma’s folder of research. Thumbing through the pages of notes he soon landed on a bullet point circled in blue ink and underlined twice.  _ Counterpart may exhibit trauma experienced by doppelganger until succumbing.  _

“How is any of this possible?” Fitz mumbled to himself, trying to process all possible outcomes paired with the current evidence and facts. Around him, Simmons, Morse, and Ward tended to Leo as he continued fade in and out of consciousness. Memories of his own trauma crashed down around him and a moment later he was moving back across the lab. “He needs oxygen.”

Fitz reached for a nearby tank and nasal cannula. Without question, Morse began to assist and soon Leo was hooked up. 

“Just as a precaution,” he added when Simmons gave him a questioning look. “He might be exhibiting early stages of hypoxia.” 

“How can that be?” Simmons’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“A symptom of the dematerializing illness is exhibiting your counterpart’s physical trauma. If we can stave off the full effects of the hypoxia while we try to…” He gestured to Leo, overwhelmed. The young woman only stared, connecting the dots. To Fitz’s relief she didn't comment or question him about his past. Hopefully, they’d be able to find a solution before it was too late and the injury left any lasting effect. “It must be why Jemma was shaking and passed out, she was experiencing the early stages of  _ your _ trauma.” 

“That’s not possible.” She frowned, deep in thought. Fitz had seen that look on his wife’s face hundreds of times. “I don’t have any past trauma—well, aside from scoliosis surgery when I was young, but that’s hardly in line with those symptoms.”

Now it was Fitz’s turn to frown. Turning, he tried to locate his wife. So distracted by Leo’s condition and the implications, he’d lost sight of her, but his eyes soon landed on her across the room. Her back to him, she didn’t hear him approach. Something in her hand had caught her attention, but he couldn’t see just what.

He gently pressed his fingers to her shoulder and she gave a little jump before turning to him with eyes watery with worry and… hope? She clutched what looked like test results in her hands and his heart thudded in his chest. 

“It seems Leo has the same illness. Did you figure it out? Find a solution?” 

“I don’t think it's possible Leo and I are sharing the same symptoms.” She held out the results for him to read but his eyes swam as he deciphered. Blood rushed through his head as he struggled to process. “I suppose I should have realized sooner, but I honestly didn’t think—I don’t know what it could possibly mean, given our new situation here in this universe, but Fitz…” 

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, drawing his attention up. One look in her eyes nearly staggered him, they were shining with so much love and joy. She smiled wide.

“Fitz, I’m pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, OK, so it's been a while, huh? After some of the revelations in the Framework teaser tag in 4x15 my goal was to finish this fic completely by the time SHIELD returned for 4c but LOL. That didn't happen. 
> 
> Thank you to dilkirani for the cheerleading and the beta!


	5. Of Human Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to dilkirani--without her support (and by that I mean lovingly yelling at me in a pub in Stockholm last month *mwah* ) this might never have been finished! And finished it is! I shall be posting the last chapters over the next few days. Additional thanks to dilkirani for the beta and cheerleading!

**** Simmons shifted in the hard plastic chair next to Leo’s bed in the medical bay. He was unconscious due in part to the stabilizing drugs and extreme exhaustion. Her heart ached just looking at him, so pale and frail against the starch white sheets. 

“We never really talked much when we were students, but I always thought we’d get along,” she spoke, her voice shaky as she ran her fingers over the chair’s arm. “You were always so smart. Handsome.” 

Simmons stopped at the sound of the someone behind her and turned to see Bobbi approaching. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” The agent offered her a water bottle. “I wanted to make sure he was still doing OK. That you both were OK.” 

“Oh, yeah, you know. He’s doing as well as can be expected.” Simmons straightened. “And I’m fine.”

“You know,” Bobbi started, “I thought you did great in the field today.” 

Simmons frowned, confused. “I have prior field experience.” 

“Yes, but I know about… what happened after Cuba.”

She gripped the water bottle, running her thumb over the label as memories of her last encounter with Jasper Sitwell played in her mind. A high ranking SHIELD official, he had been her commanding officer. Had recruited her out of the Academy, along with a fellow cadet, Donnie Gill. Under Sitwell’s guidance, she had sabotaged her standing in her graduating class, had tried to make herself less memorable and ready for an undercover operation within the science division of an enemy intelligence agency. 

Simmons had thought she and Donnie were doing the right thing. She had thought they were operating on the right side of the law, for the greater good, only to discover they were puppets of a sinister plot led by Sitwell. Their corrupt commanding officer had been found out in the end, but not before tragedy stuck. He’d abandoned Simmons and Gill to the bottom of the Atlantic—dropped them down in a poorly outfitted med pod. 

Together, they’d done their best to detonate an explosion, but something had gone wrong and Gill had been swept away in the current as the water rushed in. She’d tried to reach for him, to grab him and swim them both to the surface, but she wasn’t fast enough. It was certainly decompression sickness causing her vision to spin, but as the current carried him away, Simmons could have sworn she’d seen some sort of husk take form over his body. She’d lost sight of him seconds later. Gill had been her first and only partner in the field; they were supposed to have each other’s backs and she had let him down.

And so, when she’d found herself face to face with Leopold Fitz, when Bobbi had assigned them both to her extraction team earlier that day, Simmons wasn’t sure she could handle the responsibility of another person’s welfare. She’d felt just as nervous as Leo regarding the entire endeavor—neither one of them wanted to face the possibility of danger. Little did she realize, of course, that he was already in danger, that he was essentially a walking time bomb thanks to the fractures between universes.

Now, once again, she was faced with her inability to protect her partner—even if their partnership was temporary, even if they’d only just reconnected… 

“Back when we were in school, I always thought if he just got over whatever he had against me...” Simmons exhaled, breath shaky. So many thoughts were swirling in her brain at once, but one thing was beginning to take shape, was beginning to float to the surface. “It’s a strange feeling.”

“What is?” Bobbi tipped her head to one side with careful consideration. If she’d noticed Simmons hadn’t addressed her comment about Cuba, she didn’t let on.

“This is the most we’ve interacted in all the time we’ve known each other. We were enemies in school, and then I left… and now I can’t imagine.” She looked at the agent, eyes searching for some insight. “It’s a strange feeling, but I can’t imagine ever being without him.”

Before Bobbi could reply, the machines monitoring Leo’s vitals went haywire, emitting alerts as his heart rate spiked erratically. His breathing grew shallow and he began to wake. Simmons was certain he was more translucent than he had been a mere five minutes ago. Her heart plummeted. He was getting worse and, despite her years of training, she had no idea how to help him. 

As Bobbi struggled to administer more of the sedative, Simmons did all she could do—she held his hand and hoped for more time.

* * *

“You aren’t happy. Why aren’t you happy?” Jemma’s heart dropped into her stomach as she watched Fitz pace the length of the workstation. After the initial bombshell of her pregnancy, Jemma and Fitz had been swept up in assisting and stabilizing a fading Leo. Now, two hours later, they returned to the workstation, hoping to either figure out a cure or discover a way back to their universe. Fitz’s silence was deafening as he thumbed through their notes and files, and Jemma felt her own worry and panic bubbling to the surface.

He paused, finally meeting her eyes. His hands on his hips, one foot bouncing against the smooth floor. After a moment, he turned from her, sighing and dragging his hand over his face and through his hair. She continued to track him as he leaned on the edge of a nearby desk. 

“Jemma.” He spoke her name on a sigh. “I’m happy. Of course, I’m happy. But mostly, right now, in this moment, I am _terrified_.” 

“Why?” She stepped forward but stopped when he drew himself further away. She wasn’t even sure he was aware he’d done it.

“Look around!” Tossing the folder aside, he swung an arm out. “We’re in another universe. _Again_.”

“Oh. Yes, that—”

“You make it sound like it’s inconsequential.” His annoyance was radiating and she scrambled to offer her perspective, to make him see that this situation wasn’t at all like her time on Maveth.

“OK, it isn’t _inconsequential_ , but nothing compares—” 

With his hands on his hips, he interjected, “It’s not _nothing_.” 

“—Comparatively speaking, _it is_.”

“How? How is _this_ nothing?” He gestured around the lab and Jemma fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was unsuccessful. 

“It just is.” 

“We are stuck in a different universe. And I have no— _absolutely zero_ —idea how to get us home. Not without Daisy here to quake open the dimensions—and how she managed to do that I don’t even—”

“Yes, all of that is true. And scary, sure, but,” she moved closer, grasping at his crossed arms, “we’re having a _baby_ , Fitz.” She watched the fight leave him on an exhaled breath. 

“How can I protect you? _Both_ of you?” He looked at her with baleful eyes. “We don’t know the affects jumping around dimensions like this has on a pregnancy… How far along do you think—” Pausing, his brow furrowed in thought, he ran his teeth over his lower lip.

“Six weeks.” Jemma grinned as he widened his eyes.

“Six weeks?”

“Mmm-hmm. That night in Inverness at your cousin’s wedding.” A blush crested over her cheeks as she remembered the finer details after they’d left the garden reception. 

“How can you be so sure?” He raised an eyebrow and she stepped closer. 

“Women’s intuition.” 

“Hardly scientific.” 

She tucked her head under his chin and, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her closer. 

“Don’t question your pregnant wife.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw. 

“Why aren’t you terrified? Or at least upset this is happening?—Tossed into another world. _Again_.”

“Oh, I am terrified and upset—but this isn’t anything like Maveth. There’s running water, for example. And, more importantly, you’re here.”

“Hmm.” 

“I couldn’t imagine living apart from you—pregnant. Having no idea you’re about to be a father, someone’s dad.” 

“A da,” he whispered, and she caught a hint of apprehension at the edges. No doubt he was worried about his own childhood, and the influence of his father. Well, that wouldn’t do. Rising up to her toes, she turned to brush her mouth against his and made a mental note, once the shock wore off, to tell him all the reasons he’d make a great dad. All the reasons she couldn’t imagine having children with anyone else.

“I’m sure if we’re trapped here indefinitely, we can find somewhere to build a home. I wonder if this universe has a Perthsh—” 

Before she could finish her sentence, Agent Simmons burst into the unit. 

“You definitely cannot stay here, in this universe. The sickness? Leo is only getting worse…” She wrung her hands, and Jemma’s heart broke. She knew what it was like to see Leopold Fitz slipping away. Without a word, she straightened and moved to help the young man who had been so kind to her, so ready to help—after a fair amount of coaxing. It was her turn to return the favor.

After forty minutes and some quick thinking, they were able to stabilize him once more, but Jemma was growing apprehensive of his odds for survival. They needed to find a solution and they needed to find one fast.

Before she could voice her concerns, the walls of the entire SciOps facility began to rumble and shake. 

“ _What the_ —?” Fitz’s eyes darted to a shaking tumbler of water. 

“Is it possible this city is on a fault line in this universe? How interesting. I never would have guessed they’re susceptible to such earthqu—” The word died on her lips as Bobbi barreled into the room dragging a frantic Randolph behind her.

“I don’t think it’s a fault line, Jemma,” her husband whispered as Ward flew through doors, carried on the vibrations of a quake, crashing into a wall of metal cabinets. “Gotta admit, that is satisfying to watch,” Fitz murmured low enough only Jemma could hear. 

A moment later, a woman who looked exactly like their friend strode into the room with a level of anger Jemma had never before witnessed. She was dressed in a black bodysuit similar to the one she and Fitz had designed, but her wrists weren’t braced with gauntlets and her hair was cropped far closer than their Daisy would ever dare. She looked drawn and rageful, helped by the thick black circles of eyeliner shadowing her eyes. Jemma was beginning to understand Randolph’s fear of Quake. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t bring this whole place down,” the vigilante hissed, a hand poised to send vibrations through the air and do just that.

“You’re looking for answers,” Bobbi moved towards her with hands up, placating. Her batons were just out of reach, strapped to her back.

“I don’t want answers. I want revenge. And he can get me that,” Quake pointed at Randolph. “He can get me to Loki.”  

“Can we all just take a moment and acknowledge that this whole ‘you killed my father, prepare to die’ crap has been done—pardon the pun—to death.” Randolph sighed heavily from behind Bobbi.

“Really?” Fitz piped up. “You’ve got _The Princess Bride_ over here but no _Doctor Who_ ?”

Randolph scrunched his nose. “The who and the what, now?”

“Shut up!” Quake shouted and sent shock waves to a nearby light fixture, blowing the bulb and causing sparks. Everyone grew quiet.

“Revenge won’t solve anything,” Bobbi offered, trying to calm Quake down. “It’ll only make matters worse.”

“I”m fine with that.” She raised a hand at Randolph, ready to strike.

“I’m sure I can change your mind.” Ward finally stood, wincing as he brushed debris and rubble from his suit. “Your father? He isn’t dead. Coulson lives.” 

“ _Whhhhat_ ?” Randolph’s voice hit a pitch only dogs could hear. Jemma blinked, absorbing this new information. Coulson survived in this universe, too? _Of course._ It all made sense… in as much as anything over the past few days made sense.

Next to her, Fitz scrunched up his face before giving voice to her own thoughts, “We probably should've seen that coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, if you're excited to see what happens to next, I'd love to hear about it! Comments welcome!


	6. Everything in Its Right Place

**** “You lie,” Quake seethed, her hand still poised, ready to cause destruction. “My father would never… he would never _abandon me_. He would never leave me without some sort of reassurance.” 

Fitz watched as Ward took a cautious step closer to her. The tension in the room was thick and crackling. It was surreal to witness this standoff between Ward and Daisy—a role reversal, with their former enemy now shielding them from danger, placing his body between them and the vigilante. Dimly, Fitz understood how this version of Grant Ward had become the director of SHIELD. He was the all-American boy their Ward had only _pretended_ to be… 

“You’re right, he would never leave you. Not willingly.” Ward continued to move closer and Fitz wondered at his plan. There was no way he could disarm an Inhuman with Daisy’s abilities. He could only hope to distract her, to calm her down with rational thought—but was she _hearing_ him? “After Manhattan, Coulson wasn’t himself. He was severely injured. I won’t lie to you, Daisy—”

“Quake.” She vibrated with barely contained fury and Ward acquiesced with a careful nod. 

“ _Quake_ , your father was in terrible shape, near death. But our world class medical team saved him. They combined decades of research and advancements in technology and brought him back, revived him.”

“Oh, yeah?” The lights flickered as she flexed her fingers, sending faint but sharp waves through the air. “Then why was I kept from him? It’s been _months_ —practically a year. Why am I only just hearing about this _now_ ?”

“Because I said so.” A deep, familiar voice echoed from the entryway behind Quake. Fitz had to lean around her to confirm his suspicions. In every universe, it seemed, Phil Coulson loved to make an entrance. 

The older man looked more frail than their director —but, of course, Fitz hadn’t met the man until well after Fury’s team put him back together again. This man had a deep scar across his left cheek and was leaning heavily on a cane. Fitz wasn’t certain what sort of injury he’d sustained in the field, but judging by the tense way he held his body, it had been catastrophic and complicated.

Quake spun, staring at her father with wide eyes. As she struggled to form words, Coulson approached on unsteady legs. 

“It’s been a bit of a process. I didn’t want you to see me this way. Wasn’t sure what kind of man I’d be, when all was said and done.” 

“I don’t care about that. We were family,” Daisy finally spoke, tears shining in her eyes. “Family helps family. I was so… lost. Broken.”

“I know. I’ve seen the news reports. I’m sorry about that.” Coulson glanced over his shoulder and for the first time, Fitz realized May was behind him, standing like a sentinel in her leather jacket and aviator shades. “But we decided it was best if everyone—including my family—believed I was dead.”

“Why? What good could possibly come from _thinking you were dead_ ?”

Coulson shrugged half-heartedly. “There’s an infection growing, spreading inside this very establishment. I needed to step back to let the people at its helm think they’d won, made progress. Hiding in plain sight was the best option. They were— _are_ —hunting down 084s. Unexplainable, unnatural things. And people.” He looked at her with fatherly compassion and for a brief moment, Fitz was jealous. Then, just as quickly, he banished the traitorous thought. 

“People like me?” Daisy spoke with incredulity and Coulson only gave a brief nod.

“Hey boss, I can report a full perimeter check. Although, gotta say, for a super secret spy agency, the number of weak spots I found is _unsettling_.” Fitz stifled a gasp as Lance Hunter, dressed head-to-toe in black and carrying a rifle, appeared practically out of thin air. “Probably why the evil calls are coming from inside the house, if you get what I’m saying—oh, and _hello_. Who do we have here?”

Jemma elbowed Fitz’s side as they witnessed Hunter sidle up to Bobbi. 

“Who indeed?” Bobbi scoffed, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Is this really happening?” Jemma whispered, but Fitz was too stunned to answer, instead gaping like a fish. 

“I bet you’d make a great blonde,” Hunter winked at Bobbi. 

“I bet you’d make a great rug,” she scowled. 

“Hey, I can’t say I’d mind being spread out on your floor, love.” 

“Coulson, who is this guy?” She hooked a thumb in Hunter’s direction so hard he had to duck back. 

“Lance Hunter. A mercenary I recruited to help with the dirty stuff.” Coulson shifted to lean more on his cane. “Unfortunately for May, he’s great at his job.” 

“May and I have come to an understanding.” Hunter grinned. “I understand that if I piss her off, I should be well outside of her range of motion.” 

“You forget, Hunter,” May finally spoke, an unsettling grin curling at the corners of her mouth, “I’m fast.” 

“Didn't forget. Just wasn't quick enough and got the scars to prove it.” 

Daisy turned back to Coulson in disbelief. “So you built your own rag-tag security detail, why? I could have protected you if only you’d have let me.” 

“I wanted you out there, front and center. I wanted you on a warpath, taking out secret lairs and exposing fraudulent funds.” Coulson was practically shouting. “If the public knew about you and about your powers, then those hunting the 084s couldn’t get to you. You were a public figure.” 

“I was _hunted_.” 

“No, you hunted them. And they ran scared.” No longer able to stand, Coulson finally sat on the edge of a nearby desk. “But now we have to combine our efforts. We have to work to flush out the remaining infection, and I’ve realized the only way to do that is to do it together.” 

Daisy stared at him and again the air crackled with tension. For a moment, Fitz was certain she was about to raise a hand and bring the entire building down around them, despite the revelation of her father’s existence. 

“I don’t know that I can forgive you for this,” she whispered, hurt and defeated. 

“I understand.” Sadness creased the corners of his eyes. “But right now, what do you say we try to set the world right, one 084 at a time, and see where we go from there.” 

“Oh! Speaking of 084s, I found this near the containment showers in the secondary lab. It’s a bit of sparkle, innit?” Hunter tossed a rose quartz stone the size of a pear up in the air and caught it with ease. Fitz’s heart was in his throat. 

“Be—be careful with that!” The three scientists circled the mercenary, ready to tackle him to the ground. 

“Easy, there, mate.” Hunter lurched back as Fitz moved closer. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” 

Before he could lift his arm out of Fitz’s reach, Bobbi smoothly moved behind him and yanked the 084 from his grasp. 

“Oi! What in the actual hell.” He scowled at Bobbi, shaking out his injured fingers. She paid him no mind and instead turned to Fitz and Jemma.

“Well, it seems the answer we’ve been looking for has been right under our very roof this entire time.” Extending the small quartz stone out them, she gave a small smile. 

Without another word, he and Jemma set to work. For the first time since he’d arrived—no, since Jemma had disappeared from their world—Fitz felt the first tendrils of hope. 

They were going home.

* * *

Jemma was exhausted. She and Fitz had run countless tests on the stone Hunter had found, but had yet to discover the safest way to open the portal. After hours of fruitless experiments, Jemma decided to take a lap around the floor in hopes of returning with refreshed eyes. Fitz agreed she needed a break, but refused to leave the stone unattended, and so with a kiss to his cheek, Jemma made her way down the corridor.

“Maybe it’s nothing but a rock,” she mumbled to herself before stopping short outside the med bay. Inside, she could see her counterpart sitting vigil next to Leo. She felt a rush of familiarity at the sight. 

While Jemma and Fitz had spent the last few hours struggling to understand the uncovered monolith stone, Simmons had spent all her time ensuring Leo’s survival. 

The other members of SHIELD—as well as the mouthy mercenary, Hunter—had retreated to a secure sublevel to further discuss the implications that came with an evil organization functioning within their agency. Quake had followed, unwilling to let Coulson out of her sight despite her anger and hurt. Randolph had disappeared with a yoghurt cup, mumbling something about catching up on his soaps in the lounge now that his life was no longer under threat. 

For the most part, they had left Simmons and Leo alone. Jemma was beginning to regret that move. 

Simmons glanced up when Jemma entered the room. 

“Any news?” Her eyes lit up, hopeful but cautious. 

“Not yet, no. We’re trying everything.” Simmons only nodded in understanding as Jemma continued, “Is there anything you discovered when you were checking it over, before all of this happened?” 

“No. I didn’t really have a chance to run any major diagnostics before I went careening through the timespace continuum.” Simmons shrugged half-heartedly as she reached up to brush her fingers through Leo’s unruly curls. 

“Yes, there was that.” Jemma moved closer. “I’m sorry about that.” 

“Yes, well, I’m sorry Leo is in danger. All because of me.” 

“How so?” Jemma recognized a bit of the guilt Simmons was alluding to from her own time spent sitting next to Fitz’s bed, but she wanted the younger woman to say it.

“If I’d somehow been more careful with the monolith, this wouldn’t have happened.” 

“That’s not true. Believe me. I have a fair amount of experience with destructive monoliths and poor timing.” 

“I seem to recall your husband saying something similar when we were at your apartment, just before Quake—or, Daisy, is it? Just before Daisy vibrated the piece of monolith on your side and...” Simmons turned to meet Jemma’s eye. 

“...Opened the portal.” Her jaw dropped as she processed. “Unfortunately, it isn’t the safest method.”

“Look at him, Jemma,” Simmons gestured to the younger boy, pale and fading. “He won’t make it through the night. He might not even survive the hour. If this was your Fitz in this bed, wouldn’t you do whatever it took—risky or not?”

“You’re exactly right, of course.” Jemma took a breath. “Leo is a good man. He helped me when I quite literally appeared in his apartment. Other people would have called the police, but Leo believed an outlandish story... I see in him everything I love about my husband. I know he’ll make a great partner, too.”

“Lab partner,” Simmons stated, carefully. “If I stick around.” 

“Yes, of course. _Lab_ partner.—If you stay.” Jemma’s faint smile left Simmons with an uneasy feeling. “Well, we haven’t any time to waste, don’t you agree?” 

And with that, Jemma went to gather the motley crew to tell them the plan.

* * *

“I’m sorry, you want me to _what_ ?” Quake eyed Jemma skeptically. “Shatter this piece of rock into oblivion?”

“No!” Fitz started, hands on his head. “You don’t have to _shatter_ it. All you need to do is vibrate it apart. Which will, hopefully, create a portal for us to return to our universe.” 

“We _think_ ,” Jemma added.

“Yeah, it could go completely spare and drop us in the Neolithic age, knowing our luck,” Fitz muttered. 

“In which case, we’d survive. We have three doctorates and a vast number of survival skills between us.”

“Are you seriously trying to convince me we’ll be OK in the Neolithic age? Just because we know how to create penicillin, doesn’t mean we’ll be able to. And considering,” he glanced down purposefully and she stifled the urge to press a hand over her lower belly, “I really don’t want to risk getting tossed into a _worse_ timeline.”

“That may very well be, but we can’t stay here.” Jemma had promised herself, no matter what, they would right this world. Now that this Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz had found each other, they deserved a chance at happiness. Maybe, she thought with a smile, it wouldn’t take them _quite_ so long to admit their feelings. 

Chastened, Fitz nodded and turned back to Quake. 

“If you use a low level of vibration, the monolith should reassemble once we’re on the other side. It’s not very elegant, but I’m sure once they’re both feeling up to it, FitzSimmons can figure out a device to harness the monolith so it’s less volatile.”

Jemma couldn’t stop her smile.

“FitzSimmons? I like it.” Coulson nodded his approval before gesturing to the chunk of the monolith. “Am I the only one uneasy about this whole endeavor?” 

“Hardly,” Quake mumbled as she eyed the stone in her hand. 

Jemma met Simmons’s steady gaze and gave her doppelganger a wide smile. They shared a mutual moment of thanks and Jemma only hoped Leo would forgive her for not saying goodbye properly. 

It was surreal, standing in this room surrounded by people that looked so much like their friends back home… She understood how Dorothy felt, just before clicking her red heels.

Fitz stepped next to her and wrapped his arms around her waist before pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“Ready to go home?” 

Running a hand up his arm, she took a shaky, anxious breath, and nodded. 

“OK, so all I do is just—?” Quake balanced the rose monolith up in the air, floating it just above her hand. It began to splinter. “That?” 

Jemma opened her mouth to respond but the oxygen was knocked out of her lungs. She felt as if her atoms were splitting and spilling all over the atmosphere. Dimly, she was aware of Fitz’s presence next to her, but she no longer felt his shirt sleeve under her fingers. She scrambled to hold onto him, but couldn’t get a grip, couldn’t hold on to him. 

Before the panic could fully crash over her, she gasped and sat upright in their bed. She was naked. Again. But her husband was nowhere to be found. Concern began to churn in her belly, quickly followed by doubt. Had any of that happened? Had she really gone to a different universe, or was she far more exhausted than she realized?

Minutes later, her worries were dashed when Fitz, still soaking wet from a shower, rushed into their apartment. The shirt he hadn't bothered tucking in clung to his wet skin and his pants barely hung on his hips. 

“Oh, thank god.” He exhaled and bent forward after seeing her in their bed. 

“Ah, good, so it wasn’t a vivid hallucination,” Jemma attempted to tease but he only shot her a sideways glare before kicking off his shoes and climbing into bed. She let out a joyful laugh as he landed on top of her in an wet, exhausted heap, his open mouth pressed against her collarbone. All of the stress from the past few days evaporated and she ran her nails through his short, damp curls. 

“We made it back. No Neolithic age.” He didn't bother lifting his head.

“Too bad. Think of all the plagues we would have forestalled with our invention of penicillin.”

“Very funny, Jemma.” 

She laughed again, her happiness and relief bubbling over. 

“Hey, Fitz?” He raised up, meeting her eyes as she framed his face with her hands. She couldn't keep the large smile from her face. She didn't want to. “We’re having a baby.” 

“A baby,” he echoed softly, before sucking in a shaky breath.

Then, eyes darkening, he leaned down to kiss her. As she reached up to unbutton his sopping wet shirt, Jemma gave thanks to the universe that they were back where they belonged.

* * *

“Fitz.” A soft, sweet voice pulled him out of the thick haze of sleep. “Fitz, it’s OK to wake up. You’re safe now.”

He winced, coming back to awareness. In seconds, it all flooded his senses. Simmons. From the Academy. Norway. Sickness. Med bay—

“What did you say?” 

“You’re safe.”

“No, before that.” He tipped his head against her hand, following her cool, soft touch. “You called me Fitz.”

“Well, I said I would do once the world had been righted.” She smiled and he was certain he’d never seen anything quite so beautiful. 

“Does that mean—?”

“Our friends have returned to their universe, yes.” 

“Hmm. You know, if I hadn’t lived through it—if you weren’t here—I’d think I’d dreamt the whole thing.” Dimly, he regretted missing the opportunity to see them off, to tell them goodbye and thank them for shaking up the doldrums of his everyday… but, well. It could hardly be avoided. Perhaps they'd meet again under less quantum duress. He blinked against the light and focused on Simmons.

“Yes, well. Definitely not a dream.” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, then.” He licked his dry lips. “Where do we go from here?”

“Hmm, well. I’ve given it some thought.” Simmons held a cup of water up for him to sip. “And I think, for the time being, my knowledge would best be suited here, in the lab.”

“Oh?” He did his best to keep his heart rate steady, hoping it wouldn’t cause the monitor to spike.

“And Bobbi and Coulson both agree.” 

“Coulson?” The last he’d heard, the former SHIELD director was dead. “How long was I out?”

“A little over twenty-four hours. Please don’t do that again. You gave us all quite the scare. Me, in particular, if I’m being honest.” 

“I’ll try my best,” he whispered, his voice suddenly more hoarse than it was a moment before. He could tell she meant it and the understanding that someone cared enough to worry about him was staggering. 

“And you don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind?” He frowned, confused as she looked at him with hope and something else he couldn't quite name.

“If I take up the workbench next to yours?”

“Ah, um. No—no. That sounds—” he exhaled steadily. “That sounds lovely.” 

Simmons smiled at him, and he couldn’t look away. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

The heart monitor beeped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All that's left is the epilogue! Special thanks to the ever wonderful dilkirani for the beta and support and love for this fic!! Without her, it would've languished, unfinished, forever.
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, I'd love to hear about it! Comments are appreciated!


	7. Epilogue: White Tulip

For Leopold Fitz, March 8th was just like any other Wednesday, if not a little more delightful than usual. Everything that could go right in one day went right. His favorite tea shop had fresh lemon biscuits—still warm from the oven (he’d purchased a dozen). The rain clouds had parted for a beautiful clear blue sky. And most importantly, the device he’d spent the last few months perfecting was finally… well, _perfect_.

As he pushed his way through the heavy lab doors, Fitz was almost tempted to jump up in the air and click his heels together. Almost. 

“Well, someone’s in high spirits,” Simmons watched him from behind her microscope, pen poised over her notepad and a smile on her lips. He gave her wink and crunched into a biscuit before extending the bag out to her. She tsked half-heartedly, but peered into the bag all the same. “You know how I feel about crumbs in the lab.”

“Come now, Simmons, this is a momentous occasion!” He dropped a takeaway cup of tea next to her elbow. 

“Yes, it _is_ rare the shop has lemon biscuits, I’ll give you that.” She nibbled around the edge of her treat, and he shot her an exasperated but playful look. When she gave him a little shrug of her shoulders, a feeling of affection bloomed in his chest. 

It felt like only yesterday since Simmons had joined him in the lab. In their time together, their joint productivity had more than tripled. They’d developed and created numerous devices that had already saved lives in the field. One that was particularly dear to Simmons involved deep water floatation. Per her request, each medical pod was outfitted with at least two—along with small portable oxygen tanks built for extensive deprivation.

Over the last few months, along with their ragtag team members—a resurrected SHIELD director and his right-hand special ops partner, a reformed vigilante with Inhuman powers, and a cheeky mercenary with a penchant for a certain back-to-blonde field agent—FitzSimmons (as Coulson had taken to calling them) had finally flushed out the insidious evil organization existing within their agency. While they were all keeping a cautious eye out for other possible double-agents, SHIELD had undergone a resurgence and was a much more pleasant place to work. 

“You know perfectly well I’m talking about the Shake ‘N Quake.” Fitz gestured to the device for calibrating and controlling the rose monolith’s frequencies. He'd studied their friend’s Inhuman abilities and adapted it to function on a smaller scale.

“We aren't calling it that.” He didn’t have to look at her to know she’d rolled her eyes.

“It’s a perfectly good name for it,” he sputtered, indignantly. “And, besides, today is the day we test it out for certain.” 

“Oh, Fitz!” She beamed. “You’ve figured out a way through, a way to the other side?”

“Mmm-hmm. But only just. The connection lasts a matter of seconds—which is all for the better, because of the time fluctuation and the, well, you know, dreaded sickness.” He waved a hand about, as if it weren’t a big deal. Simmons only murmured her understanding as he slipped on his protective goggles. He knew his near-death all those months ago still upset her and he didn’t like to push it.

“So,” Simmons leaned around him, brushing against him as she eyed the device on his station, “is that the _only_ reason you’re in such a good mood?”

Her tone was sugary and suggestive, and Fitz blinked. His focus waned; his hand holding the soldering iron growing a little unsteady. 

“Hmm?” 

“Oh, you know, I just thought maybe you were remembering last night.” She pressed closer against his arm. “After we went to dinner, you know. And went back to yours?”

Blushing, he recalled the sight of her creamy pale skin against his blue cotton sheets, her dark hair pooling around her head as she looked up at him with amber eyes full of… _of love_. He gulped.

“ _Jemma_ ,” he started, his voice cracking slightly, “I thought we had an agreement—no _flirting_ in the lab.”

“Ah, but you’re so cute when you’ve solved a problem,” she teased before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and moving back to her workbench.

He gave her an affectionate tsk before soldering a small corner of the device. 

“Alright, Simmons,” he said brightly, motioning for her to put on her goggles. “Let’s see if this thing works.” 

* * *

“Goodness, it is definitely someone’s nap time,” Fitz announced as they all entered the foyer of their cottage.

Jemma draped her wool coat over a box near the sitting room, not bothering to hang it in the closet. While they had moved into their new home well before the baby arrived, there were still a few fully packed boxes around the house. She was certain they’d get to them eventually. When their daughter left for university, for example.

“Ah, Rosie-Posey isn’t so bad.” She turned to take the three-month old from her husband’s arms. 

“Oh, I was talking about me.” Fitz dropped a kiss to Jemma’s cheek before nuzzling Rosie’s downy head. 

“I should’ve known.” She laughed affectionately while rocking their daughter side to side. 

“I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?” he called over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen.

“Yes, please.” 

The electricity flickered briefly and Jemma frowned, making a mental note to have her engineer husband check the wiring once more. But then, a folded piece of paper appeared mid-air and floated down to rest near her foot. 

“What is this, Rosie?” She bent down to pick it up and was surprised to see a familiar handwriting scrawled across the page. While the handwriting was similar to her husband’s, the letterhead, however, was for SciOps. “Fitz! They figured it out!” 

“Hmm?” He appeared at her side, looking over her shoulder. “I knew they could do it.” 

As he wrapped his arms around her waist, the little family swayed, reading the rest of the note. 

“Oh, dear,” Jemma sighed, “‘Shake ‘N Quake’—they aren’t going to call it that, are they?”

“It’s a perfectly good name,” he defended, as if by habit.

The kettle boiled and Fitz dropped his arms, turning back to the kitchen. Jemma followed, tucking the note behind a magnet on the refrigerator. 

“You would say that.” 

With a smile, she gave the note one last tap with her index finger and hoped, now that they had a window to the other side, it wouldn’t be the last they heard from their friends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest thank you to dilkirani for her long standing support of this fic! What started as a little one shot wouldn't have made it this far without her! Shouting about fanfic plot points over beers in Stockholm is easily one of my favorite memories of all time. <3
> 
> I learned a lot about what not to do with this work (#1, don't post until it's all finished) but I had a great time writing it, and I hope everyone that read it enjoyed it! If you did--I'd love to hear it! Please consider leaving a comment.


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